With This Ring
by isabella2004
Summary: When the niece of the Chief of Detectives is murdered, Bobby and Alex are sent to investigate. It soon becomes clear that there are dark forces at work and Bobby comes face to face with someone he thought he'd left in the past.
1. Bye Bye's and Bodies

**AN: I haven't seen seasons 5 and 6 so sorry if I get anything wrong! I don't own any characters from LOCI. I wish I did! Please RnR!!**

**New York City**

**September 2000**

It was the creaking of the bed that woke him and when he opened his eyes, still fuzzy with sleep, he realised that it was still dark. Not even the darkness of near dawn, but the darkness of mid-night. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the shape of a figure silently moving around beside the bed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, when he finally found his voice.

She froze and he sensed her half-turning towards him. "Nothing."

"Then where are you going?"

There was a pause. "Home."

The single word dragged him to full alertness and he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Glancing at the bedside clock, he saw that the eerie green numbers proclaimed it to be 3.42am. "Now?" He realised immediately that he had asked the wrong question. "Why?"

"Because," she replied childishly. For a moment, he thought that was all she was going to say. "Paul gets back later this morning."

Unwilling to continue the conversation in the dark, he reached over and snapped on one of the bedside lights. The room was immediately bathed in a dirty yellow glow which only succeeded in highlighting the fact that it was a cheap motel. The sudden change didn't seem to affect her. She continued to dress, by this time pulling up her pants and drawing her sweater down over the body he had revelled in only a few hours earlier.

"So you're going home now?"

"Better now than when it gets light," she replied, pulling on her shoes. "Perhaps if I'm going through my front door when it's still dark I won't feel so much like a cheap whore."

He was stunned by the anger and bitterness in her voice. She had displayed no feelings of uncertainty or unwillingness when they had crashed through the motel door late the previous evening and barely made it to the bed. He ran a hand over his eyes, "Emily…"

"Don't." She turned to face him and he could see the fear in her eyes. "Please don't. I couldn't bear it, not right now." She turned back to the mirror and started playing with her hair. "I need to go home. I need to…think." She sighed as she looked at herself, like someone viewing their aging complexion with sorrow and regret. He watched as she ran her fingers down over the obvious lovebite on her neck. For a moment, she stared transfixed and then whirled around, making a grab for her bag lying on the chair next to the bed. "We shouldn't have done this," she muttered as she raked through the contents. "It was wrong. We shouldn't have…"

He crawled over the top of the bed towards her until he was kneeling in front of her. Reaching out, he gently put his hands on her waist and pulled her towards him, burying his face in the swell of her now covered breasts. He heard, and felt, her breath leave her body in a stuttering sigh and her fingers gently starting playing with his hair.

"Come back to bed," he whispered, pulling back and looking up at her. Even kneeling on the bed, he was practically at eye level with her. He kissed her and she responded, the weight of her body slowly starting to press against him. He knew it wouldn't take much to drag her back into the soft folds of the motel sheets.

"No…" she pulled away from him and moved out of his reach. "I told you – I can't. We should never have started this. I should never have let you…" he thought she was about to cry. "I have to go." She pulled her car keys from the bag like a prize and held them up in the dim light. "I'm sorry. I should never have come." She turned and unlocked the room door, pulling it open a fraction. Turning back again, he saw the light from the lamp hit the unshed tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I'm really sorry." With that, she was gone. Into the night and out of his life.

Bobby waited as the door clicked softly shut behind her. Then he lay back down on the bed and rolled over so that his face was pressed against the pillow where she had lain, allowing him to drink in her scent and relive the memories.

**New York City**

**July 2005**

The heat was oppressive. The temperature had been in the nineties for the last two weeks making working conditions in the city almost unbearable. It also made the smell of decomposing flesh even more nauseating than usual. When they arrived at the crime scene, it was almost eleven am and Bobby Goren and Alex Eames had to cover their mouths. Rodgers, the ME, was bent over the body wearing a mask. When she saw them coming, she stood up and removed it.

"Welcome to Hell," she said by way of greeting. "This one's gonna be cooked if I don't get her out of the sun soon." She cocked her head on one side. "Is she who they say she is?"

Alex nodded, "The niece of the Chief of Detectives. That's why we're here. What have you got?"

"Well, she's in a notorious junkie hang out and the track marks would suggest that she's no first timer…"

"But?"

"But…" Rogers gave a weak smile, "the blunt force trauma to the back of the head gives it away as being not your average OD." She looked over to where Bobby was crouched in front of the body. "No sign of the weapon yet, although judging from the junk in this place, it could be anything."

Alex glanced around the small, quiet piece of waste ground just yards from the entrance to the park. It was littered with shopping carts, bricks, tree branches and other objects she was not in a hurry to get too close to. She walked over to where her partner was bent close to the girl's face. "She was pretty."

"Yes she was," Bobby replied. He lifted up her hands each in turn drawing Alex's attention to the two rings: one on each of her wedding fingers. "Obviously robbery wasn't the motive."

"Given whose niece she is, I'm guessing those are real diamonds." Alex hunkered down on the opposite side of the body. "Earrings too."

"And this," Bobby gently fingered the silver cross just visible under the neckline of the girl's thin top. He turned the cross over and read the marking on the back. "Tiffanys."

"Not too many junkies going around the city with these babies," Alex commented. "You would think she would have sold them to buy her stash." Bobby merely grunted in the way she knew indicated he was only half-listening.

"Finger marks around her neck," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I was getting to those," Rogers said, "they were pre-mortem. Looks as though he tried one way first and when that didn't work…"

"Bashed her on the head," Alex glanced down at the victim's clothing. Along with the thin white top, she was also wearing a short black skirt and high-heeled shoes. In fact, only one shoe. "Missing a shoe," she pointed out.

"Well, she wasn't killed here," Rogers said. "There's not enough blood. My guess is after the attempted strangling, she ran. The perp chased her down here and the rest is history." She batted away one of the ever increasing flies. "You guys going to be much longer?"

Bobby got to his feet. "You have her purse?" Rogers tossed the evidence bag to him and he gingerly opened it and lifted out a black satin purse.

Alex whistled, "Prada."

Bobby looked from the purse to his partner and back again. "How can you tell?"

"It's called fashion," she replied, taking it from him and opening it. She handed him a wallet and then raked through the rest of the contents. "Lipstick, compact, keys, condoms…" she lifted out a number of brightly coloured packets, "every flavour you can imagine."

Bobby opened the wallet and pulled out the victim's drivers' licence. "Gabrielle Lewis." He looked through the rest. "Cash and credit cards are still here."

"So it wasn't opportunity and it wasn't robbery…"

"It was personal," Bobby finished.

XXXX

"So, I hear you caught the Chief of D's niece?" Mike Logan asked when Bobby and Alex got back to the squad room.

"You could say that," Alex replied. "Strangled, beaten over the head…"

"Your usual exciting day at Major Case."

Alex smiled weakly. Sometimes she hated his humour. She looked over where Bobby was already tapping away on the computer. "Anything interesting?"

"I'm…looking up Gabrielle's DMV record," he replied, concentrating on the screen. "She's been busted twice in the last year for DUI."

"No wonder, all the drugs she was taking. I bet the tox report is going to make interesting reading."

At that moment, the door to the Captain's office opened and Ross stuck his head out. "Goren? Eames?" They got up from their desks and went inside, closing the door behind them. "The Chief of Detectives wants to see you this afternoon," he told them. "His brother and his wife are too distressed to talk but he thinks he might have some information which could be of assistance to the investigation."

"What kind of information?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know. He wouldn't discuss it over the phone." Ross looked sombre. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you how sensitive this case is, or how imperative it is that we get a result here. The department is trying to crack down on the drug problem in this city and if it turns out this is the result of some argument over crack…well that's not going to look too good."

"Why?" Bobby asked, "because she's the Chief of D's niece?"

"Don't look at me like that," Ross replied, "I'm only telling you what the whispers from upstairs are."

"The Chief of D's wants it to be the result of something completely innocent so that the city doesn't think 'oh dear, another dead junkie.'"

"Your words, Goren, not mine."

"Fine," Bobby walked back to the door. "I didn't realise we'd gotten to the stage where one murder was better than another." He threw the door open and stormed back into the squad room.

Ross looked over at Alex, "What's up with him?"

She shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine."


	2. Shocks and Surprises

**Hey guys - thanks for the reviews so far. TeddyMo, you're right I have a very bad habit of starting things and then not finishing them. Am going to try really hard wth this one and hopefully one day go back and finish the other ones too!**

**Brooklyn**

**July 2005**

Michelle Adams finished drying up the last of the dishes and hung the dishcloth up on the steel rack. Lifting the basin in the sink, she tipped the contents down the drain, rinsed it in cold water and then let it sit. She wiped the last remnants of water and foam from the drainer and then stood back to survey her work. The sun blazed in through the kitchen window and she watched as her husband Ben finished stacking the chairs in the back yard. As he turned, he caught her eye and gave her a small smile. She returned it before turning and walking to the door of the living room where her sister still sat on the couch. The house seemed so quiet now that everyone had gone.

"You ok?" It was a dumb question, but Michelle didn't really know what else to say. Emily Roscoe nodded silently, the back of her blonde head moving just a little bit. She made no move to turn around, so Michelle walked around and perched herself on the edge of the easy chair.

"I've cleaned up in the kitchen and Ben's finishing tidying the yard." She paused. "Can we do anything else?"

"No." The reply was barely audible. Michelle studied her sister's face, the sunken eyes, the pale skin and felt an overwhelming sense of sadness.

"Everyone said some really nice things," she started to ramble. "All of Paul's colleagues and his…his friends…" she broke off as Emily got to her feet and walked to the front window which looked out onto the quiet street. "You should get some rest."

"I can't sleep," Emily replied. "Every time I close my eyes I see him. I see what I've lost…what I let go."

"Don't!" Michelle said sharply, getting to her feet and moving to stand beside her sister. "Don't go down that road again. It's not true and you know it."

"How do I know?" Emily turned to face her. "How do I know what he was really thinking? All the arguments, the petty recriminations…he knew and he went to his grave hating me…"

"That's not true." Michelle put her hands on Emily's shoulders. "All right, he knew but he didn't hate you."

"I should have told him years ago. I should never have kept it from him. I should have told him the truth about what happened…"

"Why? So you could wreck your marriage five years ago instead of now?" She stopped on Emily's look. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant…" she scrambled for words, "You had five great years with him after…after it happened."

"The longer I kept it from him the worse of a betrayal it was," Emily persisted. "Five years, Michelle! He finds out five years later and not even from me!" She rubbed her eyes, not caring that she was spreading eye shadow and mascara across her face. "If I'd told him, we could have worked it out before this…" she started sobbing again.

Michelle stepped forward and took Emily in her arms, holding her while she sobbed. "I'm sorry Em…I'm so sorry."

"Mommy?" The voice came from the living room door and both women stepped back to see the figure of a little girl hugging the doorframe. In her simple black dress with her dark hair tied up with a black bow, she looked as though she were off to a party rather than having just attended a funeral.

Michelle stepped forward and lifted her up. "Hey you. How you doing?"

The little girl didn't reply. "Is Mommy sad?"

Emily turned away to hide her tears.

"Yes, Amy, Mommy's sad about Daddy," Michelle tried to explain. "She misses him very much." She looked at her sister. "Why don't you give Mommy a hug?"

Emily turned back around and took her daughter from her sister. Holding her closely to her, she drank in the sweet familiar scent of her. Amy tried to pull back to look her mother in the eye, but Emily kept her pressed against her. She didn't want to look at her daughter's face, didn't want to look in her eyes. There was too much familiarity in them that felt suddenly so inappropriate.

XXXX

**New York City**

**July 2005**

Bobby drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair as he and Alex waited to be admitted to the office of the Chief of Detectives. They had already been there at least half an hour. Clearly, the death of his niece wasn't the most important thing on the Chief's mind that day. Sighing heavily, he got up from his chair and started pacing the room in front of his partner who was reading a copy of the newspaper.

"Not nervous are you?" she inquired, not lifting her head.

"What? No. Just…impatient."

"Don't worry, we'll get in."

"I know that!" She looked up at his tone. "Sorry, I didn't…" he shook his head, "sorry."

Alex folded the paper and lowered her voice so that the secretary at the desk near the door wouldn't hear. "What's up with you today?"

Bobby stopped pacing and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"You've been on edge all morning. You practically bit Ross's head off earlier."

"I hate how this whole thing is so…political. His niece has been murdered for God's sake and all he wants is for it not to reflect badly on him."

"Bobby, Ross just told us that was what the rumours were. You don't know that he's not in there right now sobbing." He looked at her disbelievingly. "All right, maybe not sobbing but you know what I mean." She lifted the paper again and he watched as she read the sports section.

Defeated, he sat back down beside her again, jiggling his thigh and making the change in his pocket jangle. What he had said was only half true. He _did _hate the fact that it seemed to be political, that the only thing that mattered was not that a young life had been cut short but that it be proved she was not some junkie who died at the hands of a dealer, but if he was being honest, it was something else entirely. Something more to do with the small article he had read that morning over breakfast. The few lines in the Post, which explained that the funeral of Detective Paul Roscoe, killed last week in the line of duty, was being held that morning in Brooklyn. It had been the last few lines that had really kicked him in the stomach. _Roscoe leaves behind a wife, Emily, and a daughter, Amy._

For all the Irenes' and Denises', there had only ever been one Emily.

He was prevented from thinking any more on it by the door of the office opening and the Chief of Detectives appearing. "Detectives? I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Please come in." They followed him into the office and took the seats he offered them. "As I'm sure you can imagine, it's been chaotic here this morning. My brother and his wife are in no fit state to speak with the police or make any arrangements, therefore both tasks fall to me." He studied them both. "Do you have a cause of death yet?"

"Your niece was hit over the back of the head," Alex explained, "we're not sure with what yet."

"I see." The Chief shook his head. "Poor Gabrielle."

"Was your niece a habitual drug user?" Bobby asked eager to get to the crunch.

"No."

"Boy…" Bobby glanced at Alex, "You didn't even have to think about that one."

The Chief fidgeted uncomfortably. "Of course I didn't have to. My niece was not a drug user full stop."

"With all due respect, sir," Alex said, "the track marks on your niece's arms beg to differ."

The Chief reached into one of his desk drawers and lifted out a file. He paused and then slid it across the table. Bobby reached it first and when he opened it, he was confronted by a picture of Gabrielle Lewis looking healthy and, even more surprisingly, wearing a uniform. He showed it to Alex.

"Your niece was…a cop?" she asked.

The Chief nodded. "And she was working a very sensitive and dangerous undercover operation." He stood up and walked to the window. "Gabrielle got into some trouble when she was younger. She was _not_" he emphasised, "a drug user. But she knew a lot about the drug scene. The Narcotics task force needed an 'in' and…well…Gabrielle was it."

"You used your niece as…what…some sort of bait?" Bobby's tone was incredulous.

"I told you," the Chief said, turning back around, "she was a cop. She was doing her job. We were just using her local knowledge." He sat back down at his desk and ran a hand over his eyes. "Don't think I haven't been through this already with my brother."

"You said that Gabrielle was working for the Narcotics task force," Bobby said.

The Chief nodded, "She…they…were close to making a breakthrough but…things went a bit wrong recently."

"Wrong, how?" Alex asked.

"I'm sure you heard about the murder of Detective Paul Roscoe."

Bobby felt his blood run cold. Emily's husband. "Roscoe was…part of the Narcotics task force? I always thought he was…"

"You knew Roscoe?" the Chief looked at him curiously.

"Uh…no…I…" he fought to change the subject. "So, what went wrong?"

"Roscoe was working undercover too. It looks as though the drugs gang that were being targeted got wind of who he was and…" he threw up his hands, "the rest is history. It looks as though the same people might have cottoned on to Gabrielle."

Bobby shook his head, "Paul Roscoe was executed. Three gunshot wounds. Two to the chest, one to the head." He could feel Alex's eyes on him, but he kept looking at the Chief. "Your niece was strangled and when that didn't work she was chased and then beaten over the head." He paused, "Maybe your niece was caught up in something…out with her undercover remit?"

The Chief sat forward in his seat. "My niece was murdered by a drugs gang who discovered she was an undercover cop." He tossed a picture at them. "Carlos Sanchez. He's a major Mexican dealer. He and his crew are behind this." He watched as Bobby and Alex looked at the picture. "I've already called the task force and they're happy to meet with you. Gabrielle was one of their own as well as being my niece." He paused, "I want their asses nailed to a cross and I don't care how you do it." The phone on his desk started to ring. "If you'll excuse me, I've got a funeral to arrange."

Bobby and Alex stood up and walked back towards the door. "Well…" the latter said, "that's a first. Being told who did it and being asked to work backwards."

"He's hiding something," Bobby said, "He knows that Gabrielle wasn't killed by Sanchez."

"Maybe we should start with the first fallen soldier," Alex said. "Paul Roscoe."


	3. Detective Owen Slater

**Just a wee short chapter written at work!!**

"Sorry about the mess," Detective Owen Slater said as he led Bobby and Alex through the back of the warehouse which made up the headquarters of the Narcotics task force. It was hardly the most salubrious of surroundings and Bobby couldn't help wondering who they were trying to fool given that everyone in the building was wearing dress blues. "You'll have to forgive the attire too," Owen said, catching the look. "We were all at Roscoe's funeral this morning.

Bobby felt his heart jump. He was dying to ask about Emily. How she was, if she was coping. He was also itching to see her and it seemed as though the route the investigation was taking could only lead to a reunion.

"We're sorry about Roscoe," Alex said.

Owen nodded, "Thanks. It was a professional execution," he reiterated the Chief's words. "Paul knew what he was letting himself in for when he joined the task force."

"With a wife and young child?" Bobby asked. "Doesn't that strike you as..." he looked for a word, "reckless?"

Owen regarded him carefully. "Paul Roscoe was one of the best officers I've ever worked with. He was dedicated to his job and his family and all of us here spent this morning listening to his eulogy." The implication was clear. Back off.

"We're here about Gabrielle Lewis," Alex said, eager to break the tension that was threatening to engulf the meeting.

"Another good team player," Owen replied.

"Are you sure?" Bobby asked. Owen looked at him hard. "I mean, from all the evidence it looks like she was some...down and out junkie."

"Goren, right?" Owen folded his arms across his chest. "You used to work Narcotics didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Then you of all people know how important a good cover story is."

"So, what, she just manufactured those track marks?"

"I didn't say she never used drugs."

"Her uncle did."

Owen leant against a nearby desk. "Yes, well. The Chief would have you believe Gabrielle was a saint. She wasn't - but she wasn't a criminal either. She was a great cop who was doing everything she could to play her part in bringing down Sanchez and his crew."

"See, there's that name again," Bobby turned to Alex. "Sanchez. He's a popular suspect."

"What do you think we're all here working for?" Owen gestured around the room. "You've clearly been out of the game too long Goren if you don't know about Sanchez. He's responsible for the biggest influx of illlegal substances to the eastern seaboard in the last ten years. His crew are ruthless killers, as has already been proved - twice. They're not afraid of us and they sure as hell aren't afraid to kill us. Our task is to bring him down. We make him fall, everything falls."

Alex, ever the peacemaker, tried to divert the conversation back to Gabrielle. "What do you know about Gabrielle's home life?"

Owen turned to look at her. "She lived alone. No boyfriend that I know of. She kept pretty much to herself."

"Did she party?"

"No. LIke I said, she was committed to this job. She wouldn't have done anything to jeopardise it."

"So, as far as you're concerned, this is down to Sanchez?"

"Absolutely."

"See, that's where it gets a bit confusing," Bobby said, "You say that Sanchez's crew are responsible for both Roscoe and Gabrielle's deaths. Yet, Roscoe was professionally executed. Gabrielle...she was strangled and when that didn't work she was beaten over the head. Hardly...professional."

There was a long silence. Owen straightened up. "I think I've helped you as much as I possibly can detectives. I'm happy to let you in on the details of our operation and give you whatever material you think necessary. But I think that can be done through channels other than me having to listen to this crap." He turned and walked away from them.

Alex turned to her partner. "I was waiting for the fighting to start - literally."

Bobby finished making a notation in his folder. "He's hiding something. They all are." He looked thoughtful. "There's more to this than meets the eye."

They walked back out of the building and towards the car. "You want to pay Roscoe's widow a visit?" Alex asked innocently.

Bobby stopped walking. "Umm...yeah...but..."

"Umm...yeah...but what?" Alex paused, the driver's door open.

"I think I'd...like to go by...by myself." Alex looked at him. "Would you mind?"

She took a deep breath. "No. I wouldn't mind. But at some point Bobby, you are goijng to have to tell me what's going on here." She climbed into the driver's seat and turned on the engine. "I'll call in and get Roscoe's address. I can drop you off on the way."

"It's...it's ok," he replied. "I know the address." They looked at each other for a long moment. "I will tell you," he said, "I promise I will but...right now I need you to trust me."

Alex pulled away from the kerb. "I do trust you, Bobby. But you also need to trust me. If there's some history with you and Paul Roscoe..."

"There isn't," Bobby replied quickly. "Not with Paul Roscoe."

"His wife?" Bobby didn't reply. Alex shook her head. "If you're playing with fire, Bobby...be careful. There's nothing more complicated than when one party's married."

Bobby didn't say anything. Every mile was taking him closer to Emily. He had some questions for her and they weren't all work related.


	4. Carefree and Consequences

**Hey guys- just so you know the flashbacks are going backwards and the present day forwards. Hope that makes sense! Thanks for the reviews so far! Keep them coming!!**

**New York City**

**September 2000**

"Emily…"

Intense pain shot through Bobby as he landed heavily on the ground, the sheer force of the bullet knocking him backwards. He lay looking up at the ink black sky as the world appeared to move in slow motion around him. He could hear voices, but they were muffled and slow, like someone dragging on the reel of a tape to slow it down. Then she was beside him, her face looking down into his.

"Bobby? Bobby, can you hear me?" At first, her voice was distorted, then the world seemed to speed up again and she sounded like herself, the way he always heard her voice in his head. "Bobby! Bobby, look at me!" He realised that he had closed his eyes and opened them again, her face swimming into focus. "Are you ok?"

"I…I think so." His hand went automatically to his chest.

"It's ok," she reassured him and he could hear the tremor in her voice. "The Kevlar caught it. The Kevlar…" she broke off and he realised through the pressure of her hand on his that she was shaking. "I thought…"

"Goren! You ok?" one of the other detectives ran up to them. "Wow! That was one hell of a shot!"

"Did you get him?" Emily demanded, back to business.

"Yup. Cuffed and in the squad car. Ambulance is on the way for the other guy. You got him through the stomach." The younger man bent and clapped Bobby on his shoulder causing pain to shoot through his chest again. "Well done, Goren!"

"Can you stand?" Emily asked, holding one hand, her other under his elbow.

"Yeah." He slowly got to his feet and then swayed slightly, bumping against her as she fought to keep him up right. "Jeez that hurt."

"I'm not surprised," she replied, her voice muffled slightly against his chest. "Point blank range. Lucky he didn't aim for your head. Come on," she steered him back towards the motel. "You need to get checked over."

"I'm ok," he protested, but he let her lead him to the one of the rickety benches on the porch and slowly help him sit down. He started to unbuckle the vest, but his fingers wouldn't seem to work properly, so helped him with it. Then, he unbuttoned the front of his shirt to see the beginnings of a dark bruise over his heart.

"If you hadn't been wearing the vest…" Emily began.

"Lucky thing I was," he said. Then, his breath caught in his throat as she gently ran her fingers over the bruise and he felt a hardening lower down his body.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her gaze holding his for what seemed like the longest of moments. If he moved his head slightly, he would be kissing her. Then the moment was broken as one of the ambulance crew came to check him over. Emily stood up at this point and walked a few feet away, watching, her eyes never leaving his face.

"You should go to the hospital," the paramedic said, "get a chest x-ray."

"I'm fine," Bobby protested, buttoning his shirt back up. "Besides, there's work still to be done here."

"You should listen, Bobby," Emily said. "I don't need you collapsing with a heart attack." A thin smile played around her lips but he could tell she was still worried.

"I'm ok," he repeated, getting to his feet despite the protestations of the paramedic. "We need to process the scene."

"That's what CSU is for."

"We need to supervise."

She signed resignedly. "I don't suppose that if I ordered you back to base you would go, would you?"

"I out rank you, remember?"

"Not on this operation."

It took another hour but CSU finally finished their work. The scene was clear, witness statements had been taken and McLaren was on his way back to the precinct for questioning and arraignment later that morning. Bobby watched as Emily went about her task, catching her eye every time she looked his way, smiling reassuringly at her that he was ok. He could tell by her eyes, however, that she wasn't convinced.

"Bobby and I'll follow you back," she told the other detectives. "Go home, get some sleep. Debrief at nine sharp." The tired crew made their way back to their cars and took off into the night, their taillights disappearing around the corner and back towards the city.

Bobby stood behind her, watching her watching them leave. "You ok?"

She turned to look at him, her face ghostly in the moonlight. Then, she was in his arms, kissing him, pressing herself to him. He responded, just as he had before, tightening his grip around her, feeling his heart thump through his chest and through the pain of the shot.

"Get us a room."

The words were mumbled while they were still kissing and at first, he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. He pulled back. "What?"

"Get us a room, Bobby. Now. Before I change my mind."

**Brooklyn**

**July 2005**

The Roscoes' house was an ordinary looking house in an ordinary looking Brooklyn street but as Bobby stood at the front gate, he could feel his heartbeat quicken. Emily was in there. He hadn't seen her since the night at the motel five years ago and he wondered if she had changed. Did she still have those big blue eyes, or had they dulled with age and tragedy? Was she still soft, rounded and warm? Did she still feel…? He stopped himself from going any further before he got a hard-on in the street. Pushing open the gate, he walked up the steps to the front door and rang the bell.

A woman with long dark hair opened the door and regarded him warily. "Yes?"

"I'm…I'm looking for Emily Roscoe?" He said, "I'm a…a friend…"

The woman was looking at him as if she wasn't quite sure where she remembered him from. "I'm her sister. Emily's not in a very good way right now. She buried her husband this morning."

"I know," he said, "I wanted to tell her…how sorry I was. My name's Robert Goren…" he trailed off at the look of shock that crossed the other woman's face.

"I…" she stammered. "Can you…give me a minute?" She closed the door quickly and went back into the house leaving Bobby on the step. A minute later the door opened again and a face he knew so well appeared.

"Bobby?" she said his name quietly, as if speaking any louder would alert everyone to the fact that five years ago they had once had wild sex.

"Hi Emily." He took in her tired eyes and thin face and felt his heart ache for her. "How are you?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"I came to see how you were and…and I need to ask you a few questions."

"About what?"

"About a case I'm working. Can I come in?"

Emily paused, then stepped back and opened the door wider, allowing him to enter. "You'll have to excuse the mess. The last few guests left not long ago." She closed the door behind him. Bobby walked into the living room where Emily's sister was standing, still looking slightly stunned. As far as he could see, there was no 'mess.' Rather, an impeccably tidy living room with cream carpet and suite, pictures on the walls…a woman's touch. "Michelle, can you…can you give us a minute?" He was brought back to earth by Emily's voice behind him.

"Sure," Michelle said, "I'll go check on…I'll go upstairs." She hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Bobby turned back to face Emily. "I'm very sorry…about Paul."

"Thank you," she replied, sitting down on the couch. "Please, sit down."

"How…how have you been? I mean, before…before what happened…"

"Fine."

"I meant to look you up after…after…but things got a bit crazy…"

"You joined Major Case." He must have looked surprised. "You've made quite a name for yourself." She smiled tightly, "You've done well. I'm pleased for you." She paused. "What did you want to ask me?"

She clearly didn't want to talk about the past, didn't want to reminisce about the stolen moments they had shared culminating in that one night. "Paul was on the Narcotics task force."

"Yes."

"Did he ever mention a Gabrielle Lewis?"

"Sure," Emily nodded. "She was one of the other cops assigned to the task force."

"Did you know she was the niece of the Chief of Detectives?"

"No, no I didn't. Paul doesn't…Paul didn't…talk much about his work with the task force." He could hear the note of sadness and regret in her voice. _God, if only things had been different._

"Gabrielle was…murdered yesterday night."

Emily looked momentarily stunned. "That's terrible. How…I mean…how did she die?"

"She was hit over the head. She wasn't murdered like Paul. That was what you were thinking, wasn't it? About how he was executed?"

"Trust you," she said, "trust you to be psychoanalysing me while trying to conduct a conversation. I wasn't thinking that actually. I was thinking how terrible it must be for her family. I know how I'm feeling about losing a husband but I can't imagine losing…" she stopped suddenly, as if she had strayed into territory she wished to steer clear of.

"Your daughter?" She nodded imperceptibly and her eyes involuntarily flickered to the mantelpiece where there was a large picture of a little girl. Getting to his feet, Bobby walked over to the photograph of Amy that had pride of place.

"She's beautiful," he said, lifting the photo. "She looks like you."

"I…I guess so…"

"Are you still working?"

"No," Emily cleared her throat. "No, I gave up before she was born."

He nodded. Amy was blonde, like her mother and had the same wide grin that he remembered so well, and yet was not in evidence today, but there was something about her eyes. Something that looked so familiar and yet he wasn't sure he could place. He continued to look at the photo as a sudden thought pressed at the back of his mind, an insistent thought that grew the more time he gave it. The thought that, in the heat of their passion, safe sex had been the last thing on either of their minds. "How…how old is she?"

Emily looked slightly panicked. "She was four in April." He mentally counted back the months. "July 2000." She supplied quickly. "I was…I was pregnant with her when I…when we slept together."

_Jesus…_The thought made him feel slightly sick. The thought that he had been inside of her, making love to her and all the time…all the time she was carrying Paul's baby. The thought must have shown on his face.

"Not so nice a memory now, huh?" He looked at her. "Turn you off, does it?"

He slowly replaced the picture on the mantelpiece. "I've never regretted what happened between us Emily."

"Really? Well I have. God, I was such an idiot!" She got to her feet. "Giving in to the whims of my groin!"

Her crudeness stung him. Despite the fact that he hadn't won, that she had, in the end, chosen her husband, he had always remembered that night and what they shared with fondness.

"Look, I don't know anything about Gabrielle Lewis or what happened to her. All I can think about right now is what is happening to me. Me and Amy. I've lost my husband and she has lost her father. Please," she moved to the living room door. "Please, just go."

There were a million things he wanted to say to her, but he was wise enough to know that now wasn't the time. He followed her back down the hallway to the front door. She opened it and stood holding it, her eyes on the floor.

"I'm sorry," he said, stopping in front of her. "I didn't mean to…"

"I know," she replied and when she looked up, he could see the same look in her eyes that he had seen all those years ago. "Please just go."

He paused for another moment and then left the house, hearing the front door click shut behind him.

XXXX

He found Alex back at 1PP going through a stack of papers. She looked up as he approached his desk and he knew she was dying to ask and yet wouldn't.

"What's all this?" he asked, not wiling to discuss the conversation, or lack thereof, he had had with Emily.

"Roscoe's file from the 3-8. They were kind enough to send it over, along with everything else they compiled in the last week." She handed him a bank statement. "The Roscoes' were paying off some serious debt," Alex said, "They were twenty-five grand in the hole stretching back four years." She flicked through the papers. "Looks like medical bills."

"Medical bills? For what?"

"Bills for Amy, their daughter. She spent some serious time in the NICU at St Matthews Hospital," she replied.

Bobby looked up. "The NICU?"

Alex nodded. "According to this, she was born seven weeks prematurely in April 2001."

"Uh…but…but that can't be right," Bobby said, trying to make sense of what she was saying, "Emily…Emily told me that Amy was conceived in July of 2000."

"Well, either Emily's missing a couple of months of her life or she's playing you." Alex lifted another sheaf of papers. "Here. Emily's medical records. Her due date was June 15th but Amy was born on April 7th."

Panic started to engulf Bobby. "But that would mean…she was conceived in September 2000."

"Exactly," Alex smiled knowingly, "when, according to this, Paul Roscoe was still on assignment in Panama City."

"Yes, but…" he got to his feet and paced in front of the desk, rubbing the back of his neck, "but Emily told me, in September, that Paul was coming home…later that day…"

"He didn't arrive back in New York until October 29th." Alex frowned, "Why all the…?" He watched as it hit her. "Were the two of you…in September 2000?" His silence answered her question. "Oh. So that means that you're…"

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God..._"Amy's father."


	5. Realisations and Revelations

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**New York City**

**July 2005**

"You look as if you haven't slept," Alex greeted Bobby the next morning. "You been up all night thinking?" He nodded. "About Emily?"

"And…and Amy." He sat down at his desk and rubbed his eyes.

"She's definitely yours then?"

"I…I don't know. I…I think so. Emily wasn't the kind of person to…to sleep around…besides with me and…" he tailed off and shrugged.

"So what happened between the two of you?" Alex's curiosity was definitely piqued, but she tried hard to sound nonchalant.

"We were working an operation together back in 2000. I was in Narcotics at the 5-3 at the time and there were a high number of drug related deaths stretching back three months. All the victims were young, in their 20s and 30s, and they all died of apparent heroin overdoses in the park."

"Oh, I remember," Alex said, "the papers nicknamed it the 'smack attack.'

Bobby nodded. "We thought that Joseph McLaren was behind it. He was an Irish immigrant who had come to the States about ten years earlier and seemingly worked his way up through the city drugs hierarchy. It looked as though the drugs he was pushing weren't pure and that's what caused all the deaths."

"So where did Emily fit in?"

"She had history with McLaren. Six years previously, she had arrested him on a small time dope bust. He promised to give her information on the leading drugs gangs. She believed him, agreed to work an undercover sting and…" he shook his head, "well, she took a round in the thigh for her trouble."

"Ouch. So, she wanted payback?"

"Big time."

"So then, how did the two of you…?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It just…happened."

"And you made Amy."

"So it would appear."

Alex sighed, "Are you going to tell her you know?"

"She pretty much threw me out the last time just for turning up at her door. I doubt she'd be any more welcoming if I told her I knew Amy was my daughter." Even saying the very words made his heart beat faster.

"So you're just going to forget all about it?" Alex looked at him incredulously. "That doesn't sound like the Bobby Goren I know. The Bobby Goren for whom family is everything. Don't you want your Mom to know she has a granddaughter?"

"What do you think I've been thinking about all night?" he asked her. "My Mom having a granddaughter. Me having a daughter. Me maybe having passed on…" he looked at her slightly stricken. "What if I have?"

"Bobby, you don't know that. You can't know that. You'll never know that until any symptoms show. You can't let that stop you. That little girl has just lost the man she thought was her father. Are you going to deny her her real one too?"

XXXX

**Brooklyn**

****

**July 2005**

There was no answer at Emily's front door when Bobby arrived. He rang the bell twice and was about to give up when he heard the sound of laughter coming from the back garden. Slowly, he made his way to the back gate and peered over it. Amy was sitting on the grass playing with her dolls, jabbering away to herself in 'little girl speak.' Reaching over the gate, he unbolted it and swung it open, glancing around to look for any sign of Emily.

As he approached, Amy looked up.

"Hi," he said. "I'm guessing that you must be Amy. Am I right?" She nodded silently. "My name's Bobby. I'm a friend of your Mom's."

"Hi." She spoke very softly but he could still hear her.

"Can I sit down?" he pointed at the grass beside her. She nodded, so he lowered his large frame down onto the ground next to her. "And who are these?"

"This is Claudia and this is Molly." She showed him her two dolls. "Claudia's the prettiest because she's blonde like me."

"She certainly is." He dutifully admired the doll. "What are she and Molly doing today?"

"They were going to go to a party."

"Were?"

"They can't go because they're sad," Amy replied solemnly.

"Really? Why are they sad?"

Amy looked up at him, those big blue eyes, those eyes that reminded him so much of himself. She was a part of him, he had made her. She was his daughter, his flesh and blood and he had never known…

"Amy!" Bobby looked up and saw Emily standing a few feet away, looking furious. "Amy, go inside right now!"

"But I'm playing with Bobby!"

"I said, now!"

Reluctantly, Amy got to her feet. "Bye Bobby," she said sadly, before walking slowly past her mother and in the back door.

"Bye Amy," he called after her, getting to his feet.

Once the door had closed, Emily rounded on him. "What the hell are you doing here?! I thought I made it clear…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he interrupted her.

"Tell you what?"

"I know." She looked confused. "I know that Amy's mine." He watched the blood drain from Emily's face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She didn't directly answer him. "How…how did you…?"

"Your medical records. They said that you were due on June 15th but that Amy was born prematurely on April 7th 2001. Which means she must have been conceived in September 2000 and that's when we…"

"How did you get my medical records?" she demanded.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is…"

"It does matter! Those records are supposed to be confidential!"

"The 4-8 sent them over. They were with Paul's files. They gathered everything together after he was killed." He watched her sag slightly against the wall and put one hand over her eyes. He repeated his question. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She looked up sharply. "Why would I?"

"Well…" he fought for the right words, "you were carrying my baby. Didn't you think I had a right to know?"

"And what would you have done?" she asked. "Come charging in like some white knight and swept us away? Ask me to leave Paul? What?"

"I thought…"

"I was married to Paul for four years before I ever laid eyes on you. I loved him with every fibre of my being. I didn't love _you_, I barely even _knew_ you! You were just some guy I worked with that I happened to find sexually attractive! Did you really think I would have given everything up for you?"

Every word was like a blow to his heart, a blow to his memory. The memory of the stolen kisses they had shared, the stolen moments, culminating in the explosion of passion that he could still recreate in his head on a dark night alone in bed.

"I cared about you," he began, "I really cared about you, Emily and when we made love that night…"

"Jesus Christ, what movie are you living in Bobby?" she spat. "We didn't 'make love.'" Her tone was mocking. "We fucked. Pure and simple. There was nothing more or nothing less to it. We fucked. Fucked. And at the end of the day, by fucking me, you did me a huge favour."

"Really?" he shot back, hurt at her tone, "And what was that?"

"Paul and I had been trying for a baby ever since we got married with no luck. I suspected it was his problem but he never really wanted to talk about it, so we never did. We just kept trying and every month I kept getting my period and then we'd try again. One night with you and I've got a bun in the oven! Thank you very much! You probably saved my marriage." She was trembling in her rage. "Paul loved Amy! He loved her so much and I thought he never knew…never knew…" she broke off as she started to cry…"not until…"

"Not until when?"

She turned away, "It doesn't matter."

"It does!" Bobby grabbed her arm. "He found out he wasn't Amy's father?"

Emily sighed and wiped away stray tears. "He got a letter…about three weeks before he died. It was anonymous and it said that I had had an affair while he was in Panama City and that Amy wasn't his."

"And he believed it?"

"He told me that he had always suspected but that he was never sure and he didn't want to rock the boat." She laughed bitterly. "And all the time I was so convinced that I'd kept it so well from him. Convinced him that the last time we had had sex before he went to Panama City that I had fallen pregnant. I never thought that he had known." She looked at him. "I'm a terrible liar, Bobby. When he confronted me…I couldn't hide the truth."

"Do you know who wrote the letter?"

"Weren't you listening? I said it was anonymous."

"Do you still have it?"

She thought for a moment. "I think so. Why? Do you want to see it? Do you want to give your ego another boost? The virile Robert Goren wants to see physical proof of his prowess? Just look at the little girl that was here a minute ago, Bobby, there's your proof."

"It might help with my case," he said quickly. "Gabrielle Lewis."

"Oh, and there was me thinking that you came over to see your…to see Amy."

"Please."

"All right, fine. But I don't know what you expect it to tell you." Emily made her way back into the house, through the kitchen and into the living room. Bobby watched as she walked over to the bureau in the corner of the room, opened it and took out a small white envelope. She passed it to him. "It was put through the letterbox." The front said simply 'Paul Roscoe' in black ink.

Bobby opened it and pulled out a small sheet of paper. Opening it, he read the words aloud. "How stupid are you if you can't see it? Your wife, your Emily, has been putting it about with another man. Didn't you realise when you came home? How can Amy be yours?" He turned it over. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"This note convinced Paul that Amy wasn't his?"

Emily shrugged. "There were a lot of things that Paul didn't share with me. I don't know what he was really thinking all these years. I don't know what buttons this note pushed. All I know is that it started one almighty row that lasted for three weeks and that…that hadn't been resolved by the time he died." She sat down on the couch. "He died, knowing that I had lied to him for all these years. That doesn't sit easily with me, Bobby."

Bobby sat down beside her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if what we did…ended up hurting you."

She turned to look at him and held his gaze for a long moment. "Look, I know what I said…about what we did. I stand by that, Bobby, it wasn't…it wasn't love. You must recognise that. It was…desire, nothing else." He was relieved she didn't use the word she had used previously. Somehow 'desire' sounded better than 'fucked.' "But I also meant what I said when I said thank you. Even if I did say it sarcastically. You and me…we made Amy and…and I'll always be grateful for that. You didn't…you didn't hurt me. You gave me something irreplaceable."

He placed his hand on top of hers. "I suppose I should say that you're welcome."

For a moment, she let him touch her before she pulled away and stood up. "You can keep the letter. I don't want it here. If it helps you find out who killed that girl…"

Bobby stood up too. "I want more than this, Emily."

"I don't have anything else," she replied, misunderstanding his meaning.

"No," he said, "I mean with Amy. With you."

She regarded him warily. "I don't know…"

"She's my daughter and I've only just found this out after all these years. I want…" he groped for words, "I want a relationship with her."

Emily's expression grew horrified. "You don't expect me to…Bobby, I have no intention of telling her that you're…that she's yours. No intention at all…!"

"I don't…I don't mean that," he said quickly, although deep down, he did. "I just want to spend some time with her. Get to know her. Get to know you." Emily frowned. "You're the mother of my daughter, Emily, and we don't really know very much about each other apart from what we learned in those few months we worked together. And, as you rather graphically pointed out, all we did was…"

"Ok," Emily put up her hand, "I don't need my words repeated to me." She bit her lower lip. "I don't know, I just…I just don't know…"

"Look, it doesn't have to be anything too…you know…heavy. Just, let me spend some time with her."

"What, like Uncle Bobby?"

"Whatever you think would be appropriate. I don't want to tread on anyone's toes." As he said the words, he glanced over at Paul's photograph sitting on the table.

Emily seemed to ponder this for a long moment before slowly nodding her head. "Ok," she said, "ok I guess that you could see her…from time to time." She paused. "I was going to make her lunch. You're…welcome to join us, if you want to."

"I would. Thank you."

"Ok," she looked at him again and he could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. "But this is what it is, Bobby, ok? It's nothing…nothing heavy."

He nodded. "Nothing heavy." He watched as she turned and walked back towards the kitchen. _Nothing heavy…Jesus…_


	6. Desire and Deceit

**New York City**

**Late August 2000**

Emily paused at the door of the squad room and watched as Bobby worked at his desk. He was going through the surveillance photographs, lifting one at a time and studying it before putting it back down again. She watched as his hands moved deftly, confidently over each one and felt her breathing quicken as she remembered how, the previous evening, those hands had been all over her.

God only knows she hadn't meant for it to happen again. After the first time she had sworn that it never would, had reminded herself that she was a supposedly happily married woman and that she had taken serious and sincere wedding vows four years earlier. Married women weren't supposed to go weak-kneed for men they worked with. Married women weren't supposed to fantasise about what it would be like to have another man inside of them…

She was jolted, literally, out of her reverie by another detective bumping her from behind. She stumbled forward into the room and that's when Bobby looked up and saw her. Their eyes connected and she could see the barely disguised desire in his eyes that she had seen the previous night. The desire that, had she succumbed, would have led her straight to his bed. It didn't help of course that Paul had called from Panama City and they had had another classic argument.

"Why are you such a bitch, Emily?" he had asked her.

"I don't know," she had replied. "Maybe it's being married to a complete bastard like you."

Shaking herself free of the memory, she took a deep breath. "Morning," she greeted him, walking over to her desk. "What you looking at?" She knew damn well, but she didn't want there to be any opportunity for a discussion about what had happened.

"The surveillance photographs of the club," he passed them to her, "they came out well."

She lifted them and flicked quickly through them. There were certainly enough pictures of Joseph McLaren but nothing specifically incriminating. For a brief moment, her mind flitted from the taste of Bobby's skin to the job at hand. She was determined to get McLaren if it killed her. She reached down and gently rubbed her thigh, remembering the bullets she had taken six years earlier all because of him.

Bobby must have noticed. "It still hurts?"

"What?" she looked up. "Yeah, sometimes. Especially when I look at pictures of this creep." She tossed the photos back onto the desk. "What about the tapes?"

"Still down at the lab being processed." He glanced around. "Emily, about last night…"

"Don't!" she hissed. "Don't go any further." She lowered her voice. "It can't happen again, Bobby. It won't happen again." She ran a hand through her hair. "I should never…we should never…" she fought for the right words. The words that would adequately convey her guilt, her shame and yet couldn't because, as much as she hated to admit it, it had felt so right.

He looked at her for a long time. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say that," she shot back, "it makes me sound like some poor weakling that you took advantage of. I knew what I was doing." _God, I knew…_ "But it just…it can't happen again." Even as she said it, even as she looked at him, she could feel the sweet ache in her groin.

"Hey guys." The moment was broken by one of the other members of the squad, Detective Alice Lennox. She flopped down in a seat beside Emily. "Urgh, how can it be morning already?"

Emily was glad of the distraction. "Big night out last night?"

Alice grinned. "More like big night in." She leaned closer to the two of them. "Let's just say that Chris was in a _very _good mood last night." Emily could feel her face starting to flush. "What about you?" Alice's comment was directed at her. "While Paul's away, Emily will play?"

Emily knew her friend was joking, but faced with a comment so close to the truth, it only made her feel sick. "No." She fixed her gaze on the telephone note on her desk, not trusting herself to meet either of their gazes.

"Bobby?" Alice switched her focus. "How about you?"

"Uh…" Emily steeled herself. "Uh…nope."

"God, you two are so boring!" Alice got to her feet. "I need to go and speak to someone who's having as much sex as I am!" She laughed, "Later!"

After Alice walked away, there was a long, strained silence. Emily kept her head down as long as possible but eventually, mostly to avoid a crick in her neck, she looked up. Bobby was still watching her. She held his gaze for a long time, hoping that she was conveying what she really felt. _If only…_

XXXX

**New York City**

**July 2005**

It was after three by the time Bobby got back to the squad room having had lunch with Emily and Amy. The little girl had remained slightly sad and subdued, no doubt caused by the death of her father. _The man she thought was her father. You're her father…_the idea still resounded in his head. He and Emily had talked about generalities, for example, how hot it was that summer. For a short time, he had felt as though there were almost a family.

"She has my eyes," he had said to Emily when Amy was out of earshot.

"Her eyes are blue," Emily had replied quickly. Then, seeing the look on his face, she had backtracked slightly. "But…I'll admit…there is something about them that reminds me of you."

"Where have you been?" Alex demanded as he approached his desk, "Ross has been going crazy!"

"Sorry," he said. "I was having lunch with…with Emily and Amy."

"Really?" Alex raised her eyebrows, "and she was ok with that?"

He shrugged, "She's not entirely comfortable with the idea but right now I'll take what I can get."

They were prevented from discussing it any further by the door to Ross's office and him bellowing their names. They walked inside and sat down opposite his desk. "I got a call from the Chief of Detectives," he told them solemnly. "He's not particularly happy with the way this investigation is going."

"We've only just started," Alex replied.

"He's particularly displeased," Ross continued, ignoring her, "with the meeting that took place between you and Owen Slater yesterday."

"The guy's an ass," Bobby said. "He's buying into the same theory that the Chief of D's is: that Gabrielle was killed by Carlos Sanchez."

"I see," Ross said, folding his arms. "You have another theory?"

"Yeah," Bobby replied. "She wasn't."

"How very profound. I managed to calm the Chief down and assure him that we're giving this case top priority. Detective Slater has agreed to come over here tomorrow to talk things through more calmly. I'm sure I can trust you both," but he looked at Bobby as he said this, "to act with the professionalism that I would expect from my detectives."

Bobby held his gaze. "Of course."

"Good. In the meantime, go over to Gabrielle's apartment. You might find something there that could be of use." He lifted a pen and started writing on the pad in front of him, a clear indication that the conversation was over.

"Yikes," Alex said as they left his office. "Sometimes I wish…"

Bobby looked at her, "What?"

She shook her head. "Never mind."

XXXX

Gabrielle Lewis had apparentl lived in a rather pretty first floor apartment on 82nd Street. It was modestly decorated in neutral colours. For a busy, undercover cop, it was also particularly neat and tidy. Not one thing appeared out of place. Nothing immediately jumped out as being the missing piece of the jigsaw. Or indeed any piece.

"She might have had a boyfriend," Alex called out from the bathroom. "There's birth control pills in the cabinet. Along with your usual array of medicines." She came back out into the bedroom where Bobby was going through the drawers. "Anything interesting?"

"Well…" he held up a large, fluorescent purple vibrator. Switching it on, it started to thrust quickly upwards.

"Down boy," Alex joked. "I don't even want to think about where that's been."

"Hmmm…" Bobby placed it carefully back in the drawer. "It's very…um…impersonal."

"You think _that's _impersonal?" Alex gestured to the drawer.

"I mean the apartment as a whole." He wandered around the bedroom and back out into the living room. "There's no family photographs. No personal items, no general untidiness. These magazines…" he lifted a stack neatly placed on the coffee table. "_Your Home…In Style…"_ He put them back down. "They're…non-specific. They say nothing about Gabrielle. In fact there's nothing personal at all in this apartment." He opened drawers in the living room and then moved into the kitchen. "These utensils," he gestured to the gleaming metallic ladle, sieve and grater hung neatly on a rack next to the fridge. "They look brand new."

Alex lifted one down. "There's not even a mark on them. Now if someone examined my kitchen stuff…"

Bobby bit his lip. "She didn't live here."

"But someone wanted us to think that she did," Alex said, "and someone wanted us to think she was a normal, good little girl." She shook her head.

"But they got it a little bit wrong," Bobby said. "They went too far. This place looks like a show-home. Whoever wanted us to think this was her place made it too…too clean."

"We're being fed an image by someone of what they want us to believe Gabrielle was like."

Bobby nodded. "To keep us away from the idea that she might have been involved in something that the family of the Chief of D's wouldn't want to admit to."

XXXX

**Brooklyn**

**July 2005**

"Mommy?" Emily looked up from where she was finishing clearing away the dishes from dinner to where Amy was sitting colouring at the kitchen table. "I had fun today."

"I'm glad," she said, pleased that something at least had brought a smile to her daughter's face. "What was the best bit about today?"

"Playing with Bobby."

Emily paused where she was wiping the sink, surprised at how quickly Amy had said it, without even thinking about it. "Really?" she tried to sound nonchalant. "Why was that?"

"He liked my dolls. And I liked him being here for lunch."

"Good." She pulled off her rubber gloves and came to sit opposite Amy at the table. "Would you like it if Bobby came to play again?" Amy nodded. "Are you sure?" The little girl smiled and Emily would have sworn it was Bobby smiling at her. "Ok."

"Can he come to the picnic?"

With all that had happened over the last few weeks, Emily had forgotten about the kindergarten picnic that was due to take place the following Saturday. "I'm…not sure. He's a busy man. He might not be able to."

"I want him to come," Amy said determinedly, in a tone of voice that left Emily in absolutely no doubt that she was her father's daughter.


	7. Feelings and Fear

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**New York City**

**July 2005**

"What exactly do you mean by 'impersonal'?" Ross asked the following morning as they relayed what they had found at Gabrielle's apartment.

"She doesn't live there," Bobby replied. "There were no personal items, no indications of a life…someone was trying to throw us off the scent."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that someone wants us to think that Gabrielle was something that she wasn't. A good girl."

"Maybe she was," Ross said, "maybe you're choosing to overanalyse this."

Bobby shook his head, "I'm not overanalysing…"

Ross ignored him and looked back down at the report. "It says here you found a vibrator. The Rampant Rabbit 220 to be precise." He looked up with a deadpan expression. "How does that fit in to your impersonal theory?"

"I was thinking about that last night," Alex said, glad to break the tension. "It's the most normal thing there." Both men looked at her. "A lot of women have vibrators."

"They…uh…they do?" Bobby asked.

Alex ignored the question. "My money's on a woman doing this. Only a woman would appreciate how normal that would be. A man would just consider it kinky."

"Ok," Ross replied slowly, "so, who do we think? Have any women come up yet in the investigation?"

"No," Alex replied. "There are female members of the Task Force of course but no-one…"

"Well, you can always ask Detective Slater when he comes in later this afternoon. What about Paul Roscoe? Any connection showing up yet with his death?"

Bobby shook his head, "They were killed in two different ways. The only connection is this unswerving belief amongst everyone that Carlos Sanchez is responsible for both murders."

Ross glanced down again, "What about Roscoe's widow?"

Alex glanced quickly at Bobby who just as quickly responded. "Emily?"

"You say that like you know her/"

"Well, I…uh…I do know her. From a long time ago."

"I see," Ross raised an eyebrow. "Have you spoken to her?"

"Yes."

"Does she know anything?"

"No. She's still coming to terms with her husband's death. She knew Gabrielle but…"

"Could she have been the one to fix up the apartment?" Ross directed the question at Alex.

"She's not involved," Bobby said.

"It's unlikely, Captain," Alex replied, "why would she? She has no stake in this."

"I want to be able to tell the Chief of D's that we have covered every angle in this investigation," Ross replied, "if we need to get Emily Roscoe in here to do that, then let's do that."

"You know Emily's not involved in this, right?" Bobby asked his partner as they walked back to their desks, "I mean, you know that, right?"

"I don't know the woman, Bobby. I've never even seen her remember?"

"But you trust me when I tell you she's not involved, don't you?"

"Look," Alex leaned forward, "I understand that you're overwhelmed about seeing her again and I understand that it's a big thing for you to find out that you have a daughter. But Bobby, if you're not telling me something because you want to protect her…"

"There's nothing to tell," he replied, "she's a woman who lost her husband. She doesn't know anything about Gabrielle." He paused and then opened his folder. "Well, apart from this." He pulled out the anonymous letter Emily had given him and passed it across to her.

""How stupid are you if you can't see it? Your wife, your Emily, has been putting it about with another man. Didn't you realise when you came home? How can Amy be yours?"" Alex read the letter aloud. "Where did she get this?"

"Someone sent it to Paul a couple of weeks before he died. It's how he knew that…" he tailed off, remembering that he hadn't shared the intimate details of his conversation with Emily with her. "Well, it's how he suspected that Amy wasn't his."

Alex turned the letter over and looked at the printed name. "You think Gabrielle sent this?"

"There's no evidence of that."

"Maybe we should get a handwriting analysis just to be sure. I'm not…" she put her hand up at his expression, "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just saying that if Ross finds out that we had this and we didn't follow up a legitimate line of enquiry…"

"No, you're right," Bobby said. "I've…uh…I've got a friend at Princeton. He does a lot of handwriting analysis. I'll…I'll send him a copy."

"Bobby," he looked up at her, "even if it does turn out to be Gabrielle's handwriting, it doesn't mean that Emily's involved in any way with her death."

"Of course she isn't!" he replied, "she wouldn't have any reason…"

"But if she knew that Gabrielle had destroyed her family..."

Bobby was prevented from replying by his cell phone starting to ring. He didn't want to think about what Alex was suggesting. There was no way that Emily could be involved. He knew her, knew every inch of her, and knew that she wasn't a killer. Couldn't be a killer. _But maybe,_ his conscience said, _maybe she knows someone who could._

"Hello?" he answered the phone, eager for a distraction.

"Bobby?" His heart thudded loudly, "It's me. Emily."

"Hi," he replied, pushing all his previous thoughts to one side, "Hi, how are you? How's Amy?"

"We're…uh…we're both ok," she sounded hesitant. "I'm actually calling because…well…" she appeared to be fighting for the right words. "Amy enjoyed having you for lunch yesterday and last night she reminded me about her kindergarten picnic."

"Picnic?" he replied, stupidly.

"Yeah, they hold one every year in the park. Anyway," she paused again, "well…Amy wondered…I guess we both did…if you wanted to…you know…come along."

"Uh…well…I…"

"It's next Saturday," she continued, "I understand if you're busy."

"No, no!" he replied quickly, "I'd love to. I…I'm just surprised that you asked me, that's all."

"If I'm being honest," she replied, "I wasn't going to. But Amy was so determined and she…well she seems to have taken a real shine to you. I'm not sure how I feel about that right now to be honest…" he could almost imagine her struggling. "But I want her to be happy so…that's why I'm asking."

"I'd love to come."

"Great," he could hear relief in her voice. "Well, why don't you stop by here around eleven on Saturday and we can…well…head down there after that?"

"Ok," he replied, "I'll see you Saturday. And, thank you for asking me."

"You're welcome, Bobby," she replied, "See you Saturday." With that, the line went dead.

Bobby clicked off the phone and sat pondering for a moment. A whole afternoon with Emily and Amy. A whole afternoon with his daughter. A few days ago, he wouldn't have thought it possible. But for all the joy that the 'family' side of him was feeling at the possibility, there was a small part of the 'business' side of him that knew it would be the opportunity he needed to ask Emily more about Gabrielle Lewis.

XXXX

Owen Slater arrived smugly at precisely two-thirty-five that afternoon. He was clearly aware of the gentle ass-kicking that both Alex and Bobby had received and as they walked into the interview room, they found him sitting comfortably with his arms folded.

"Detectives," he greeted them formally.

"Thanks for coming in," Alex said. "We're sorry that it was necessary. But after you cut short our meeting last time…"

"I'm sorry about that," Owen replied, "I just felt that you guys weren't respecting what had happened."

"You mean losing two members of your squad within a week of each other," Bobby said.

Owen nodded, "Exactly."

"Well, if we could just run some things about Gabrielle past you, we'll try and not keep you too long," Alex said.

"Fire away."

"Where did Gabrielle live?"

Owen laughed, "You guys are Major Case and you can't even work out her address?" He stopped on their looks. "As far as I know, 82nd Street."

"As far as you know?" Bobby asked.

"Well, it wasn't the kind of job where you hung around each other's apartments. At the end of the day, we all wanted some space from each other."

"But, you couldn't have seen Gabrielle every day, could you?" Bobby asked. "I mean, not when she was working undercover."

"I was her handler. She checked in every hour."

"Every hour – wow. That's a lot of commitment."

"Meaning what?"

"He means that that didn't give Gabrielle a lot of time to 'bed in' with whoever she was 'bedding in' with. Not if she had to call you every hour. Wouldn't that have looked suspicious?" Alex cocked her head on one side.

"It was up to Gabrielle how she worked it. So long as I heard from her every hour, I didn't care how she did it."

"Gabrielle…" Bobby mused, "she wasn't the only woman on the Task Force, was she?"

"No, there's three others."

"Do they have names?" Alex asked.

Owen glowered at her, "Jenny Patrick, Lisa Henderson and Charlie Mayer."

"Any of them particularly close to Gabrielle?"

"Like I said, it was work, not a sorority."

"Is there any reason, Owen," Bobby asked, "that you're so defensive whenever we ask you about Gabrielle?"

"I'm not defensive."

"There you are!" Bobby pointed at him, "right there. Why is that?"

"Two of my colleagues, two of my friends, have just been murdered and instead of going straight for Sanchez, you guys are wasting time asking me dumb questions. I'm starting to think that you think that I did it!"

Alex looked at him, "Did you?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a reply. If you want to talk to the other members of the Task Force, feel free. I brought over as much of the paperwork as I could and I let it with your Captain. If you have any questions about it, then please give me a call, but unless I hear that Sanchez has been arrested for this, I'm done." He stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I've got business to take care of."

"Business, like…what?" Bobby asked.

"If you must know, I'm going to visit Paul Roscoe's widow."

Bobby paused, "Emily?"

Owen nodded. "Despite what you might think, Detectives, we do take care of our own." With that, he left , crossing the squad room back to the exit.

"Well," Alex said, "that went a lot better than last time, don't you think?"

"He's still hiding something," Bobby asked, watching him leave, "otherwise why would he be so touchy about everything?"

"At least he gave us the names of the women on the squad. Perhaps we'll get more out of Detectives Patrick, Henderson and Mayer."

**Brooklyn**

**July 2005**

Emily was wearing a old sweater and a pair of marigolds when the doorbell rang. She flushed the toilet and hurried downstairs, pulling them off as she did so. For a fleeting moment, only a fleeting moment, she hoped it was Bobby. When she opened the door, however, she saw it was Owen Slater.

"Owen!" she said, surprised, "what are you doing here?"

"I stopped by to see how you and Amy are."

"We're fine, thank you. Getting there." There was an awkward silence, "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes, thank you." She opened the door wider and let him enter, then she led the way through to the kitchen.

"Coffee?"

"Please." He looked around, "the house is looking great."

"I've gone into a bit of a clean-freak mode," she replied, "it helps me to…well…to forget."

"You shouldn't forget, Emily. You shouldn't forget Paul."

Emily turned at this, "I'm not. I've no intention of forgetting him. It's just…" she sighed, "if I don't keep busy then I end up sitting and dwelling and that's not good for me or for Amy." She handed him a cup. "Anyway, how are things your end?"

"Apart from being questioned twice by those idiots at Major Case, fine."

"Major Case? Bobby and Alex?"

"On first name terms are we?"

"No," Emily blushed, "I mean…I know Bobby from a long time ago. We worked together. Anyway," she tried to cover it up, "what have they been asking you?"

"Dumb questions about Gabrielle. Where did she live, who was she friendly with on the squad…" he shook his head, "they're fishing for something."

"Maybe they're just doing their jobs."

"No, they're not 'just doing their jobs'" Owen replied, "there's more to this than they're letting on."

"I thought…" Emily said casually as she wiped the kitchen table, "I thought that it was pretty much a done deal that Carlos Sanchez killed Paul _and _Gabrielle?"

"Exactly," Owen replied, looking at her over his cup. "And if you're asked, just remember that that's what you say. Ok?" Emily's heart was pounding in her chest, so loud she was surprised he couldn't hear it. "Ok, Emily?"

She nodded, suddenly, and unexpectedly, wishing with all her heart that Bobby was there. "Ok."


	8. Longing and Lust

**Slightly mature content ahead!!**

**New York City**

**August 2000**

"Fuck you! Yes, you heard me right. Fuck you!" Bobby stopped as he came out of the mens' room as he heard, what sounded like Emily, swearing loudly. "Oh really? Why's that then Paul? Because you're some big macho hotshot living it up in Panama City?" There was a pause and he couldn't help continuing to listen. "Yeah, well screw you. I really couldn't care less if you never came home!" With that, he heard the crash of a receiver hitting the cradle and then the unmistakable sound of crying. He was in two minds as to what to do. Part of him wanted to walk away and pretend he had never overheard what was clearly supposed to have been a private argument between husband and wife. But another part of him, the part that was inexplicably drawn to Emily, wanted to comfort her.

In the end, the choice was made for him as she came barrelling out of the room she had been in and crashed into him. As she looked up to see who she had collided with, he could see the tears on her cheeks.

"It's you," she said.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"Have you been listening?" her expression grew angry.

"No…I…" he fought for an adequate explanation. "I came out of the bathroom and…well…it was hard not to."

"Oh," she roughly wiped the tears from her cheeks and took a deep breath. "Well, every word you overheard was true. And I could add a lot more to it as well." He didn't say anything. "Sorry," she let out a long sigh, "I shouldn't…I shouldn't be involving you in this. It's between me and my son-of-a-bitch of a husband." She walked over to the water cooler and poured herself a glass.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively.

Emily looked at him for a long moment. "I'm not sure I'd know where to start. Everything's just going so…so wrong at the moment." She drank the water. "Paul's away in Panama City on some assignment that he can't tell me anything about and…" she shook her head. "I'm not sure what's happening to us. We used to tell each other everything but over the last few months it's as if this wall has gone up between us and I don't know when it started or how to tear it down." As she spoke, she wandered into the now deserted squad room and sank down at her desk. Bobby pulled a chair up beside her. He couldn't help the part of him that was eager to hear every detail about the problems in her marriage, wanted to know that he hadn't misread the looks he had seen in her eyes. Yet he felt sad that she was clearly so unhappy.

"I feel…" she started and then stopped again. "Well, to be honest I don't know how I feel. Sometimes I think that I hate him with every bone in my body and other times, I know that I love him more than anything." She looked at him, "Does that sound crazy?"

He shook his head, "No. Sounds like…well…marriage. Or what I've heard." _And seen _he thought to himself. His own parents' marriage being a prime example.

"I feel as though I don't really know him anymore," she continued. "We've been married for four years and…" she ran a hand over her face and then seemed to shake herself. "I shouldn't be discussing this with you. It's…it's my marriage, it's…" she shook her head and then looked quizzically at him. "What about you, Bobby? Why aren't you married?"

He was caught off guard by the sudden change of direction. "I…uh…I guess I've just never found…the right woman."

Emily nodded. "I thought I'd never find anybody," she said, "all my girlfriends were married by the age of 22. There was me, stuck on the shelf. It's not like I didn't date or anything," she added hurriedly, "but they were all losers. Until Paul." For a second, a faraway look entered her eyes, but it soon faded. "Now I'm beginning to wonder if he isn't just one of them too."

"Couples…go through bad patches. It can't be all…you know…hearts and flowers all the time."

"No," she replied softly, "I guess not."

"I mean, what would marriage be without a few fights? Just…two people constantly agreeing with each other. Where's the fun in that?"

Emily looked at him again, "Are you speaking from experience? With your parents, I mean?"

He nodded, "They had a…volatile marriage. And then when my mother got sick…well they had no marriage at all."

"I'm sorry. Did she pass away?"

"Uh…no," he replied, "no, she's still here." He chose his next words carefully. "She lives up at Carmel Ridge."

"The psychiatric facility?" She asked the question without so much as batting an eyelid.

"Uh…yeah…" he was surprised, "do you know it?"

"A friend of mine, her husband was schizophrenic and he spent some time up there. I visited a few times. It seems an ok place, for what it is. I take it she is schizophrenic?"

He nodded. "It is. They look after her which…which is what she needs."

"It must be hard for you, though," Emily continued, "seeing her like that." She put her hand on his arm and he felt himself draw breath sharply. She quickly removed it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be asking you all these personal questions. I guess I'm just grateful for the distraction from my own problems."

"No, it's ok. It _is _hard. Sometimes she's so manic that she doesn't even know who I am. Other times she's so weak she can barely move her head and sometimes…well…sometimes she's normal. Or as normal as she can be, I suppose."

"What about your father? Is he still alive?"

Bobby shook his head. "He died about four years ago."

"I'm sorry." She held his gaze. "I can't imagine not having both my parents. I mean, they live in Phoenix now but…at least I know they're there if I need them." They looked at each other for a long moment. "You must be wanting to get home, Bobby. I shouldn't be keeping you here talking about this." She stood up but Bobby found himself inexplicably taking hold of her arm. She gasped and he immediately loosened his grip.

"Sorry," he said, "I'm…I'm sorry."

"No…no it's fine. You just…took me by surprise, that's all."

"I wasn't…I mean I'm not…"

"Let's forget it," she said, beginning to straighten things on her desk and clear up her papers. He watched her until she stopped and turned around. "Thank you for listening to me rant."

"That's ok."

"I don't usually…I mean, I don't really like talking about…"

"Emily…" he stepped towards her, "I'm not going to run around the rest of the team tomorrow telling them what you said."

"No, I know!" she said hurriedly, "I know. I just mean…" she sighed heavily, "I'm really not sure what I mean. I'm just grateful that…well…God I'm making a mess of this!" she laughed, "What I'm trying to say is that…if I had to run into anyone from the team tonight…if anyone had to hear me saying what I said…I'm glad it was you." He smiled at her. "You're a really good cop, Bobby and…you're a good friend. If I could call you that."

"You could," he replied, "I don't let just anyone call me Bobby, you know." He nudged her shoulder playfully as he said this and she laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

She nodded, "Yeah. When I promise to be more in control of myself."

"I'll hold you to that." He started to walk towards the door. "Night."

"Night," she replied. He was almost at the elevator when he heard her calling him back. "Bobby?" He turned and found her beside him. "You left this." She was holding out his wallet and looking straight at him.

"Thanks." He reached out to take it from her, his eyes never leaving hers, and found his fingers brushing hers. She didn't make a sound this time, although he could hear her breathing quickening and could feel his own. They didn't move away from each other. Instead, he found his fingers sliding down hers, causing his wallet to drop to the floor, and encircling her wrist. In one, fluid, movement he pulled her to him, her body colliding with his yet again, and kissed her.

Emily didn't resist. Even after the first few seconds when Bobby expected her to realise what she was doing and push him away in disgust. If anything, she pulled him closer to her and responded with even more vigour. Together they stumbled back and crashed against the elevator door. He lifted her easily and slammed her against the door again, Emily instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist.

As air demanded to be let into his lungs, he pulled back from her and kissed her throat, his fingers starting to fumble with the buttons on her blouse whilst maintaining her weight with his lower body. He could hear her gasping above him and as he pulled the material down from her shoulder and gently bit her, she cried out.

At that precise moment, there was the sound of the other elevator moving upwards. The noise grew closer and louder as they continued to grapple with each other, but suddenly the buzzer pinged indicating the elevator's arrival and Emily roughly pushed him away from her.

"Shit!" she sped into the squad room, Bobby close behind her. They waited and Bobby peered around the corner in time to see the cleaner pull his bucket out of the elevator and start mopping the floor.

"It's ok. It's only Jack."

"Only Jack?" Emily rounded on him. "And how would you like to explain to 'only Jack' why we're still here and I'm half naked?!" Bobby couldn't help noticing that her blouse was still undone and that her breasts looked pretty damn good in a simple, black, push-up bra. "Jesus!" She turned away from him and started furiously buttoning it up. "I'm married…" she started mumbling, "Christ, I'm married…I shouldn't…"

"I'm…I'm sorry," he said.

She turned back to face him just as Jack ambled into the squad room. Upon seeing them, he offered his greeting. "Evening Jack," she said, pushing past Bobby and hurrying over to her desk.

"Hey Bobby," the older man said, "Did you drop this in the hall?" He held out Bobby's wallet.

"Oh…yeah…thanks." Bobby took it from him and put it in his back pocket.

"I have to go," Emily said, lifting her bag and jacket and hurrying towards the elevators again.

"Emily!" Bobby moved past Jack and hurried after her, catching her just as the doors opened. "Wait…"

She furiously began pressing the down button. "I have to go," she repeated.

"We should talk about…"

"There's nothing to talk about," she looked up and he saw there were tears in her eyes again. "There's really nothing to talk about." He watched as the doors closed over, the last image he had of her being her twisting her wedding ring.


	9. Partners and Picnics

**Hey guys. Keep these reviews coming. DeleriousDancer thank you for yours every time! I've now seen seasons 5 and 6 thanks to the miracle of being able to work out how to download from US iTunes when you live in the UK!! I know I'm off in my timeline in that in 2005 Deakins was still about but I think Ross works better in this story.**

**New York City**

**July 2005**

"Sure we knew Gabrielle. She was part of the squad. But we didn't know her on a personal basis." Detective Lisa Henderson looked defiantly out from under her thick dark fringe. "We don't know what she did with her free time."

"You didn't bond?" Alex asked. "Four young women on a task force? In a male dominated environment?"

"No, we didn't bond."

"What about you?" Alex directed her question at Detective Jenny Patrick.

The younger detective looked slightly nervous. "Like Lisa said, we didn't bond. We barely knew her."

"You…you looked at Lisa before you answered," Bobby said from where he had been writing in his folder. "Do you have to check with her about what to say?"

Jenny snorted derisively, "No."

He met her gaze. "So why did you look at her?"

"Because Jenny knows, the same way I do, that this is all bullshit," Lisa replied for her. "Gabrielle was killed by…"

"Carlos Sanchez, yeah we know the play book," Alex said. "It would be nice to hear something original though. Something that didn't come straight from the mouth of Owen Slater." The two women exchanged glances. "Is he the one in charge here? Is that what he told you to say?"

"Of course not," Lisa said. "It's the truth."

"We have your…service records," Bobby said, lifting up two paper folders. "Yours is impressive," he gestured to Lisa. "Two years on the beat, four years in homicide in the Bronx, another two in Manhattan Vice, two in Manhattan Narcotics and then the task force. Not to mention two medals for bravery in the last five years." He nodded at her, "You earned your shot."

"Yes I did," Lisa replied proudly.

"As for you…" he turned to Jenny, "it's…well it's…it's not so…what's the word…stellar, is it?" Jenny didn't reply. He passed the folder to Alex.

"Interesting," she mused, "from beat cop to member of the task force in one jump. How did you manage that?"

Jenny looked slightly uncomfortable. "I was in the right place at the right time."

"You've only been a cop for just over two years. Must have been one hell of a right place."

"You know what," Lisa stood up, "Owen said that you would be like this. You're not interested in finding out who killed Gabrielle. You just want to try and make all of us on the task force look bad."

"I thought you knew who killed Gabrielle?" Bobby asked.

Lisa's cheeks momentarily flushed. "We do."

"Gabrielle was undercover. Owen was her handler. What were your roles?" He directed his question back to Jenny.

"I…I was more…"

"Jenny gives back up support," Lisa said, "she isn't really in the field."

"So, what, you…push papers?"

"She makes a valuable contribution."

"Why don't you let Jenny answer for herself?" Alex asked.

"It's like Lisa said," Jenny replied.

"What about Charlie Mayer?" Bobby asked. "I mean, we asked for all three of you to come down but…she didn't…why is that?"

"We haven't seen Charlie for a few days," Lisa replied hurriedly, "not since before Gabrielle died."

"Is that unusual?"

"No, she's in the field. Owen's her handler. Same as he was Gabrielle's. He'll know where she is."

"And Paul Roscoe?" Bobby watched as both women stiffened. "What about him?"

"What about him?" Lisa asked when she had recovered.

"He was killed by Sanchez too?"

"Of course. There's no other explanation."

"No other explanation…" he noted down her response. "Do you know his wife?"

"Emily?" Jenny asked quickly. Lisa glanced at her sharply. "Not really. I met her once…I think…"

"You think?"

Jenny moved uncomfortably in her chair. Lisa pulled off her visitors' badge, "we need to get back to work. Come on Jenny." With that, the two of them left the room.

"One more brick in the blue wall," Alex commented wryly.

"So, nobody really knew Gabrielle, knew about her lifestyle, knew about her habits outside of the job…"

"More like nobody cared."

At that moment, Ross walked in. "Well?"

"It was like talking to two puppets," Alex told him. "Reciting exactly what Slater told them to say. Although it was clear who, out of the two of them, was in charge."

"What about Charlie Mayer?"

"She didn't accept our invitation," Bobby replied.

"You left messages, I'm sure."

He looked up at his boss. "Of course we did."

"This is a murder investigation," Ross said, "track her down. There's overtime going this weekend."

"I…I can't…" Bobby said, causing his boss to turn around. "At least…not tomorrow."

"Something more important to do, Detective?" Ross asked.

"Something…personal."

"I see. Well, when you've finished with your 'personal' business perhaps you could focus your energies on finding Detective Mayer and seeing what she has to say before I get yet _another _call from the Chief of D's about our lack of progress."

Alex waited until he was out of earshot before turning to her partner. "Something personal as in something with Emily?"

"Amy…Amy wants me to go to some kindergarten picnic," he looked uncomfortable. "Emily said it was ok so…" he looked at her, "Do you mind?"

Alex laughed, "You don't have to ask my permission, Bobby." She glanced over at Ross's office. "He still wants us to bring Emily in for questioning."

"She doesn't know anything."

"Well, maybe you could use your 'personal' time with her tomorrow to find out for sure."

XXXX

**Brooklyn**

**July 2005**

Saturday dawned bright, fair and hot. As Bobby pulled up outside Emily's house just before eleven, he could feel the sweat already beginning to run down his back. He wasn't sure however if it was from the temperature or from nerves. He had barely slept the night before wondering about how this day was going to go.

He got out of the car, locked it and made his way up the path. When he rang the bell, he heard the sound of running feet and suddenly Amy appeared.

"Hi Bobby!" she greeted him happily. "You like my dress?" She started twirling in front of him, showing off the little yellow sundress she was wearing.

"Hi Amy," he replied, "wow, you look really pretty."

"Amy, let Bobby come inside." Emily appeared behind her daughter and opened the door wider for him. "Hi. Come on in. You're right on time."

"Thanks again for inviting me."

"Don't thank me. It was Amy's idea." It was said lightly, but he couldn't miss the slight undertone. The implication that if Amy hadn't requested his presence, there would be no way Emily would have instigated it. "I'm just finishing getting things ready." He followed her into the kitchen where she was loading food into a large picnic hamper. "I'm sorry, I didn't really know what you like so…"

"That's ok," he replied quickly, "I'll eat anything. So…" he fought for something to say. "They hold this every year?"

"Uh huh. It's billed as being for the kids but it gives the parents a chance to catch up too." She paused, as if remembering years gone past. "You might know some of them. The other parents I mean."

"I doubt it."

"No, I'm serious," she replied. "Do you remember Alice? From the squad?"

Bobby thought for a moment. "Alice Lennox?"

"Alice Fisher now," Emily replied. "She and Chris got married about four years ago. Their daughter's the same age as Amy."

"The ones with the great sex life."

Emily blushed and lifted the hamper. "Would you be able to carry this to the car for me?"

"Sure." He decided to ask the question. "Did Owen Slater come to see you recently?"He sensed Emily stiffen slightly. "Yeah, he came by a couple of days ago. He and Paul were close. He wanted to see how Amy and I were doing." She refused to meet his gaze. "Why?"

Bobby wanted to know what Slater had said to her but felt he couldn't ask. "No reason. He mentioned that he was coming over and I just wondered…"

"You've talked to him?" She looked up at him.

He nodded. "In connection with Gabrielle's murder. Not that he was particularly helpful."

"Why? What did he say?"

Bobby paused. "I really can't…I'm sorry, I…"

"You can't talk about it. That's ok," she waved her hand, "I understand. Amy!" she called out. "Come on! Time to go!" Amy came hurtling into the kitchen and Emily waved her out towards the front door. As Bobby put the hamper in the back seat, she locked the house and then came down the steps to join him. She helped Amy into the back seat and then climbed into the driver's seat. Bobby expected her to start the engine, but she turned to face him. "Do you think Sanchez killed Gabrielle too?"

He was momentarily thrown, "Uh…the evidence…well…it's not too clear at the minute."

She nodded, "Ok." Then, she started the car and backed down the drive.

The park was only a couple of blocks away and when they arrived a lot of other parents and kids were already there. As they made their way across the grass, Emily holding Amy by the hand and Bobby carrying the hamper, a woman came hurrying towards them.

"Emily…" she enveloped the other woman in a hug. "How are you? I'm so sorry that I couldn't make it to the funeral. Holly had the flu it was…" she shook her head.

"I'm ok, thanks," Emily replied. "Getting there. It's hard but…" she broke off, "Alice, you remember Bobby, don't you?"

Alice looked at him, "Bobby Goren? My God, how long has it been?" she smiled at him, "At least five years. What are you doing here?"

He opened his mouth to reply but Emily jumped in first. "We met by chance last week. Amy seems to have taken a bit of a shine to him so…"

"Understandably," Alice nodded sympathetically. "You have to come and meet Chris!" Bobby found himself being dragged away to be introduced to Alice's husband, a tall, stocky guy who, he found out, worked in construction. It took at least twenty minutes before he managed to extricate himself and head back to where Emily had laid out the blanket. She was talking to another couple who appeared to be offering their condolences, but when he approached, she turned back to face him.

"You got away then."

He laughed and sat down beside her. Amy had run off to play and was currently sliding expertly down the chute."She's a great kid," he mused.

"Yeah, she is. I worry though. She doesn't seem to…I mean…she seems to have gotten over what's happened pretty quickly. And it's only been, like, two weeks." He saw her shiver slightly.

"Kids are resilient."

Emily looked at him hard, "She's just lost the man she considered to be Daddy. She should be…I don't know…more upset, more…"

He knew what she was worried about. "Emily." She looked at him again, "She's not going to forget him."

"She's four. How much do you remember at the age of four?" Her tone was harsh, but she appeared to instantly regret it, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be pushing my guilt onto you." They both knew to which guilt she was referring.

They watched Amy playing for a little while longer before Bobby took the plunge. He wanted to know, needed to know…all the things he had missed…"What was it like?" She looked at him. "When you were pregnant with her?" Emily didn't respond. "I mean…were you sick a lot?"

"Only every day for the first three months," she replied, "I could barely get out of bed. I couldn't get anything done at work and my Captain was starting to get really pissed off. He was one of those old fashioned cops who thought that women weren't right for the force. I think he was glad he had an excuse to treat me badly. So I quit after a few weeks. I think Paul was relieved. He was quite happy for me to stay in bed all day eating M&Ms."

"M&Ms?"

"I craved them like you wouldn't believe. Amy!" she called out, her attention momentarily diverted as the little girl balanced precariously, "be careful!" She sighed, "She's fearless. I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't become a cop."

"And…what about when you went into labour?" Emily looked at him and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. "Sorry. If you don't want to talk about it…"

"No, no…it's not that, it's…" she paused. "I had been at the mall buying baby clothes when I started to get pains. I thought it was just gas but by the time I got back home I was practically doubled up. I thought they would stop because I knew…" she took a breath, "I knew it was too early. After a few hours, though, I had to call Paul to come take me to the hospital." She laughed bitterly. "You know, all the way there I'm saying 'it's too early, it's too early' over and over again and…he never said a word."

"Well, maybe he thought…"

"I told him that I had conceived before he went to Panama City. I would have been at the right time to go into labour in April. When I think of all the lies…how could he _not _know that she wasn't his? Jesus, it must have been so obvious." She twisted some grass between her fingers. "But he never said anything. Not even when the doctor said it was too early, when they said she might not survive…" she broke off and Bobby could see tears in her eyes. "Not a word."

"It must have been difficult. For both of you. Seeing her like that." _I should have been there. It should have been me…_

"She was in the NICU for months. I spent days on end just sitting there watching her lying in that little box. She was so tiny…Paul had to go back to work but he would come at night." Emily looked up into the sky, "Sometimes I wonder if that's why he did that. Because he knew she wasn't his. Maybe he was trying to detach himself somehow. I don't know…but she was a fighter and she held on and she kept fighting until finally we were able to take her home. The rest is history."

He was about to ask her about money, about all the medical bills that he knew she was still requiring to pay off, but his cell phone rang and he reached for it. "Hello? Hey. Yeah. Yeah ok. Ok thanks. Thank. Bye." He snapped it shut.

"Work?" Emily asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "I gave that letter you showed me to a friend of mine who works at Princeton. He's an expert in handwriting analysis."

"And?"

"Well…the handwriting matches Gabrielle's." He waited for her reaction.

He didn't have to wait long. "She told Paul about Amy?" He nodded. "I don't understand. How did she…? I mean, how did she know?"

Bobby shook his head. "I don't know. You're sure that you didn't know her?"

"Of course I'm sure. I knew her by name, nothing more."

"What about the other women on the task force? Lisa Henderson…Jenny Patrick…" Emily shook her head. He didn't mention what Jenny had said about knowing her, "…Charlie Mayer." At the last name, Emily's head snapped up.

"Did you say Charlie Mayer?"

Bobby nodded, "Yeah, do you know her?"

Emily shifted uncomfortably on the blanket. "She was…" she coughed, "she was Paul's girlfriend. Before I was."

"Really?"

"I didn't know she was on the task force. He never mentioned her."

"Why do you think he didn't?"

"Maybe he thought I wouldn't like it. I don't know. We started dating not long after he and Charlie split up. I always wondered if…maybe…I had something to do with that. What I mean is, I think Paul had feelings for me before he split with her." Emily looked at him, "Have you spoken with her?"

"No. She wasn't home and she hasn't returned our calls."

"She has a sister who lives in Baltimore. Diane. They were really close from what I remember. Maybe you should try there."

"I will," he nodded, "thanks." She looked at him as if she wanted to say more, but then Amy came hurtling back over towards them and the moment was gone.


	10. Emotion and Endings

**Don't say I don't spoil you guys! I'm on a bit of a roll here. Thanks for all the reviews especially guitar73 - thanks for your mammoth contribution all in one go! I hope you guys are enjoying the story!**

**Brooklyn**

**July 2005**

Amy was asleep in the backseat of the car by the time Bobby and Emily arrived back at the latter's home. Exhausted from hours of running around in the fresh air, she had been asleep before they had even left the parking lot. Pulling the car to a halt in the driveway, Emily cut the engine and then turned around to look at her daughter.

"She's like her mother," she commented, "She can sleep anywhere." Bobby, who had also turned to look at the backseat passenger, turned back to look at her and inadvertently bumped his head against hers. Emily jumped back and opened her door. "I'd best get her inside." She opened the back door, carefully undid Amy's seatbelt and lifted her up into her arms. Eager to help, Bobby grabbed the empty hamper and followed Emily to the front door.

"Here," he said, taking the keys from her as she struggled to hold onto her daughter whilst battling with the lock.

"Thanks." She stood back and let him open the door for her. Walking inside, she turned back to him. "I'll just go and put her down. Feel free to help yourself to a drink." With that, she mounted the stairs.

Bobby carried the hamper through to the kitchen and placed it down on the unit. As he did so, he looked around, taking everything in. It was a fairly large kitchen, maple furnishings with a breakfast bar in the middle. It led into a small dining room which in turn, opened into the living room. He wandered through, looking at the pictures that were dotted on every surface. Emily and Paul. Emily, Paul and Amy. In the living room, he picked up the photo from the mantelpiece that he had seen on his first visit and studied his daughter's face.

"Coffee?" Emily's voice behind him made him jump.

"Uh…sure…" he put the photo down and walked back into the kitchen. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you," she replied. "It was the first house we looked at before we got married. We both fell in love with it pretty much straightaway. How about you? Are you still in your apartment?" He nodded. "Don't tell me, it's full of books on obscure subjects."

"Among other things. Thanks." He accepted the cup from her and perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. She sat opposite him.

They sat in silence for a moment before Emily spoke again, "How's your Mom?"

The sudden return to the reality of his life made Bobby look down at the floor. "Not so good. She has…she has cancer."

"I'm sorry."

"They're doing everything they can for her, but…" he left the sentence hanging.

"Is she still at Carmel Ridge?"

"For the moment, but they'll probably need to move her to the hospital…later." He met her gaze, saw her concern and shrugged. "That's life."

"Sometimes life isn't fair." She lifted her hand and seemed to pause for a moment before resting it gently over his. "I hope you have the time with her that you need."

"How do you mean?" he asked, feeling a burning sensation on his skin at her touch.

"Well…I just mean that I hope you have the time to say the things to her that you need to. I wish I had had that with Paul."

"What would you have said to him?"

"I don't know," she replied, "I would have tried to resolve the issues we had about Amy. I would have told him the truth."

Bobby lifted his thumb and gently ran it along her skin. "What is the truth, Emily?"

She looked at him, her eyes pained. "He thinks I had an affair. A real, proper affair. That I spent months sneaking around behind his back. You and I both know it wasn't like that, Bobby." He knew she was right, but it didn't stop him wishing it had been different. "I know," she said suddenly. "I wish it too."

"Wish what?"

"That it had been different."

"You wish we'd had an affair? A real, proper affair?" he repeated her words.

"Is that so terrible? To wish that Amy had been conceived out of love instead of lust?"

"No," he said, although for him, she had been, "no it isn't." For a while, they continued to hold hands, as if the physical connection was enough to transmit all they wanted to say to each other without ever having to say it. The house was so quiet…so quiet…and all they could hear was the sound of their own breathing and their own heartbeats.

"I'd best go check on Amy," Emily said finally, drawing her hand away from his, leaving him with a chill at the loss of her touch. He watched as she walked towards the door into the hallway and the seemed to change her mind. She paused and then whirled around, striding back over to where he still sat, purposefully and determined.

Before Bobby had time to react, Emily gripped his face and pressed her mouth against his. Her kiss was fierce and powerful and yet, it wasn't desire that he tasted, but anger. He couldn't stop himself responding to her, trying to pull her into his arms. But she didn't melt against him. Instead, she pressed both her palms against each of his shoulders, keeping herself a distance from him. As she continued to kiss him, she started hitting him, lightly at first and then stronger until he actually started to feel pain.

"Emily…" he tore his mouth away from hers and tried to grab her arms. "Emily, stop!" Even though they were no longer kissing, she continued to hit him, her face screwed up with anger, hot tears forming in her eyes. As she hit him, she cried out, like a boxer pounding his opponent. "Emily!" Eventually, he managed to catch hold of both her wrists.

"No!" she cried out, the tears pouring down her face, "No, no, no!" She tried to struggle free, but he was stronger than she was.

"Emily…"

"Oh God…!" she sobbed, "Oh God…" Suddenly, she sagged against him, her anger spent to be replaced with deep sorrow. "Oh God…what have I done…?!" He stood up and took her in his arms. This time, she didn't resist, allowing him to wrap her closely to him. Her face was buried against his chest, her body convulsing with sobs. He held her, gently stroking her hair, whispering to her that it was ok.

"What have I done…?" she continued to cry, "Oh God, what have I done…?"

XXXX

**Queens**

**July 2005**

Jenny Patrick closed the door of her apartment behind her and leant against it, dropping her shopping bags in the process. Another severe work-out for her credit card had come and gone and she was home with numerous articles of clothing that she knew she would never wear. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw that it was after seven and her stomach growled. She didn't even know if she had anything in the apartment to make for dinner. It may well be that yet another phone call to _Uncle Shanghai's Fragrant Kitchen _was in order.

Leaving her bags in a heap on the ground, she walked down the hallway to her bedroom where she shucked off her jacket and changed into a comfy pair of sweats and her slippers. Then she cranked up the air con, although she was convinced she had left it on when she had gone out. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she saw the face of a worried twenty-five year old looking back at her. The interrogation at the Major Case Squad the previous day had seriously rattled her. When she had tried to talk to Lisa about it afterwards, the older woman had told her in no uncertain tones to keep her mouth shut and all would be fine. When Jenny had tried to protest, Lisa had reminded her of what Owen had said and that had immediately quelled her into silence. Lastly, Lisa had told her she had been an idiot for mentioning Emily Roscoe. Jenny hoped that wouldn't get back to Owen.

She walked out of the bedroom and back down the hallway into the living room. Grabbing the remote control she switched on the TV and channel hopped until she found a rerun of _America's Next Top Model._ Turning the volume up so she could hear it, she walked into the galley kitchen and straight into the person standing by the fridge.

"Jesus!" she swore loudly, "What the hell are you doing here?"

She never got her answer. The first bullet made her stumble back in surprise, the second, caused her to fall to her knees. As she looked up into the face of her killer, the third bullet hit her squarely between the eyes and the last sentence on Jenny Patrick's page of life was written.

XXXX

**Brooklyn**

**July 2005**

"I'm so sorry."

Bobby turned from where he was standing at the front door and saw Emily framed in the doorway of the living room. It was almost midnight and the house was in darkness save for a light shining behind her, making only her silhouette visible. She stepped forward and flicked on the lamp next to the door, casting a soft glow in the hallway. He saw that her face was pale and drawn and her eyes tired from emotion.

"Were you going to sneak out without saying goodbye?"

"I thought you were still sleeping." After the tirade had ended, Emily had been completely exhausted. Bobby had carried her to the sofa and laid her down. He had been going to leave then and there, but she had grabbed his hand in hers and in a sleepy voice had asked him to stay. He had sat on the floor beside the sofa, holding her hand while she slept, her forehead creased in anxiety.

Around six-thirty, Amy had woken up and come downstairs looking for her mom. Clicking into survival mode, Bobby had raided the freezer and found a pizza. The little girl had devoured it hungrily and then gone back up to her room to play. When she had asked about her mother, Bobby had told her that she was really tired and sleeping.

"Like a fairy princess," Amy had declared.

A few hours later, he had ventured upstairs to find her sprawled out on her bed fast asleep. He had pulled the covers around her and left her to sleep. Downstairs, Emily had slept on, oblivious to everything. He wondered if it had been the first time she had slept properly since Paul had died.

"I'm sure I don't have to ask if Amy's ok."

"She's sleeping."

"Thank you," Emily said, "for…for everything. And I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry…"

He held up his hands, "You don't have to apologise."

"Yes I do," she said, stepping forward, "I practically tried to beat you to death earlier and that's not…that's not me. You know that, right?"

He looked down into her worried face, "You've had a lot to deal with over the last few weeks, Emily. It's only natural that you need to…vent a little."

"I know, but I'm angry at _me_ not at you and…and it's inappropriate…it's not as if you forced me or anything. And…we were supposed to be talking about _your _life. You know, about your mom."

"Yeah well," he looked down at his feet. "Maybe it's not the best time to talk about her."

"I want to make it up to you," she said, "I want…"

"How?"

"How would you want me to?"

He laughed softly, "You don't really want me to answer that question."

"No," she said, looking away, "No, I guess not."

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"About what?"

"About wishing we had had a proper affair?"

She seemed to think about this for a long time and Bobby found himself holding his breath. "Yes." There was a lock of hair caught against her eyelash and he reached forward to push it away. "Don't…" she said shakily, stepping back. "My anger at you was wrong, my…hitting you was wrong. My kissing you…" she broke off and looked up at him. "I can't…" her voice was barely a whisper, "I can't handle how I feel about the rights or wrongs of that right now."

"I understand." _Man I've got to get out of here before I grab her…_ "I'd better go. Thanks again for the picnic. It was great being able to spend time with…with both of you."

"You're welcome."

Bobby unlocked the front door and stepped outside. Emily came and stood on the step, watching as he made his way back to the car. When he reached it, he turned and took a few steps back towards her. "Maybe…"

"Maybe what?" she asked when he didn't continue.

"Maybe…I could take Amy to the movies or something sometime." He tried to gauge her reaction, "Or maybe we could all go."

She paused before replying. "That would be nice."

"Great," he opened the door, "I'll call you?" It was a question, not a statement.

She nodded, "Ok. Night Bobby."

"Night Emily." He waited until she had closed the front door and the lamp had been switched off before getting into the car. As he did so, his cell phone rang.

"Goren."

"Bobby, it's me." Alex. "I hope I'm not disturbing…"

"No," he cut her off, "no, you're not."

"I just got a call from the Captain. Jenny Patrick's been murdered. Her body's been dumped not far from her place. He wants us over there ASAP." She paused, "He said, and I'm quoting this verbatim, 'whatever your partner's personal issues are, they take second place to this investigation.'"

Bobby nodded at no-one in particular, "Ok. Give me the address. I'll meet you there."

XXXX

Emily woke with a start at four am, the phone on the bedside table ringing in her ears. It took her a few moments to work out precisely where she was or what was happening and she had no idea how long it had been ringing before she lifted it.

"Hello?" she said, groggily. There was no answer on the other end. "Hello?" Again, no response. Figuring it to be a wrong number, she replaced the receiver and pulled the blankets up around her body again. Seconds before she lost herself in sleep, the phone rang again. This time, she was awake. "Hello?" Again, only dead air. "Who is this? Hello?" Determined not to be the first to hang up, she held on listening to the silence on the other end, until she heard a soft click and the other person hung up.

Feeling instantly chilled, Emily snapped on the bedside light and immediately went to check all the windows. Once she had checked the bedroom, she went through the rest of the house, quietly, so as not to wake Amy. She went downstairs, turning on lights as she did so, making sure each door was locked, each curtain drawn. When she was satisfied, she sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, comforted by the sound of voices in the room. She wrapped her arms around herself suddenly chilled despite the warm night. She thought back over the events of the day and when she recalled the kiss in her mind, she felt a tug of desire in her abdomen. _God, it would have been so easy to give in…_

Just as she was about to get carried away with her fantasy, the phone in the hall rang again. From her position on the sofa, she could see it. But for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to answer it.


	11. Deeper and Deeper

**Thanks for all the reviews guys. Keep them coming!**

**Queens**

**August 2005**

"She was executed," Rogers said as she bent over the body. "Two shots to the chest, one to the head. She's been dead about five, maybe six hours."

"She wasn't killed here," Bobby observed, from where he was crouched beside Jenny's lifeless form. "There's not enough blood." He looked at her clothes. "Casually dressed. She was relaxed, not expecting it…"

"She lives a couple of blocks from here," Alex said, "Guy that found her happens to live in the same building as the 'cute cop.' According to his statement, she lives a relatively quiet life, no boyfriends, no wild hobbies…where have we heard that before?"

"She was killed like Paul Roscoe," Bobby said, "professionally. Not like Gabrielle." He straightened up. "She's still the odd one out."

"Why don't we check out Jenny's apartment?" Alex said, "See if she really lives there?"

They made the short drive to Jenny's building, a non-descript apartment block situated slightly back from the street. She lived on the third floor and when they reached the door, it was open. Both detectives drew their weapons and Bobby went in first, closely followed by Alex. He headed through the living room to the kitchen whilst Alex checked out the bedroom.

"Clear!" she shouted.

"Same here." He re-holstered his gun and wandered over to the fridge, where a large pool of blood lay mockingly in front of the door. "She was killed in here." Alex came up behind him. "She bled out and then he lifted her and carried her out of the apartment." He gestured to the blood trail which led out of the kitchen and melted into the dark coloured carpet.

"Well, she certainly lived here," Alex observed looking at the mess, "this is worse than my place." Bobby wasn't listening however. He was practically lying on the floor squinting under the fridge. "What is it?"

"It's…" he stretched as far as he could, "I just can't…"

Alex glanced around and grabbed a broom leaning against the wall. "Try this."

Bobby fed it under the fridge and dragged the object he had seen towards him. Gently pulling it out, without allowing it to enter the blood pool, he revealed a handgun.

"Careless," Alex said.

Carefully, he lifted it up by the trigger and smelled the barrel. "Recently fired." A helpful tech appeared from the living room. "Test for prints and a serial number."

"I'm getting the feeling we may have to go round three with Owen Slater," Alex observed.

"Emily told me…that Charlie Mayer has a sister in Baltimore," Bobby said, getting to his feet. "We should check her out too. She might know something about Charlie."

Alex nodded, "Nothing like completing the witches' coven."

"Oh…and the note that Emily's husband got? It _was _written by Gabrielle." Alex raised her eyebrows. "It doesn't mean anything."

She shrugged, "I didn't say it did."

Bobby walked away from her, "You didn't have to."

**Baltimore**

**August 2005**

The drive to Baltimore later that morning was undertaken in relative silence. Alex drove, Bobby looked out of the window, his thoughts never far from Emily or Amy. In all honesty, the note had been bugging him ever since it had been confirmed it had been written by Gabrielle. Had Emily known all along? Was she hiding something? His brain hurt thinking about it. Sometimes he felt as if he knew her, knew what she was thinking, what she wanted…other times she felt like a complete stranger. The mother of his child.

"If Emily knew…" he said, breaking the silence, "that Gabrielle had written the letter…she would have confronted her. Before she died, I mean."

"Maybe."

"No, she would have. She would have had it out with her weeks before."

"What if she was wasn't sure? What if she only suspected? What if she didn't know for sure until…?"

"No," Bobby interrupted her. "Emily's…impulsive…a doer. She would have confronted her." He heard his own stubborn tone. "And even if she had…she wouldn't have killed her."

Alex glanced at him. "You seem pretty sure about a woman you barely know."

"I do know her."

"Come on, Bobby. You work with her for a few months five years ago and have a one-night stand. I'm guessing the two of you didn't curl up afterwards and compare life stories." Bobby didn't answer. "I know you want to believe she isn't involved because of Amy…"

"Not just because of Amy."

"…but you might have to accept that…"

"It's the next turning on the right."

Alex didn't say any more. She followed his directions until they pulled up in front of a large stucco house. When they knocked on the front door, it took a good few minutes before anyone appeared. Eventually, a woman opened the door a crack and peered out.

"Diane Mayer?" Bobby asked. The woman didn't move. Neither confirmed nor denied. "I'm Detective Goren, this is Detective Eames. Can we talk to you for a minute?"

"What about?"

"It's about your sister, Charlie."

At that, the door opened wider and the woman stepped forward, "Has something happened to her? What about Josh? Is it Josh?" her words came out in a tumble, "Oh God I knew he'd find her, I just knew…"

"Uh…" Bobby stepped forward and put his hand awkwardly on her shoulder. "Can…can we come in?" Diane nodded and stepped back, allowing them into the house. She closed and locked the door behind them.

"Just tell me," she said, trying to put on a brave face. "Just tell me if it's bad."

Bobby and Alex exchanged glances. "We're looking for your sister," the latter explained. "Can you tell us the last time you saw her?"

Diane looked confused, "Well not since before…before she went into hiding. Please just tell me!"

"I think that we're at cross purposes here," Bobby said, "We're from the NYPD and we're investigating the murder of Detective Gabrielle Lewis. We understand that your sister was on the Narcotics task force with her."

Diane let out a long shaky breath. "I thought…I thought that Charlie…" she ran a hand through her hair and sighed heavily. "Yes, she was on the task force. And she hated every minute of it. Being dictated to by that…bastard…"

"Owen Slater?" Alex asked.

Diane nodded, "He thought he was some kind of…of God," she snorted, "some God. Charlie would call me most nights, in floods of tears. She hated his methods, the way he spoke to the rest of the squad…she was afraid of him. Afraid of what he could do."

"To suspects?"

"To anyone. Charlie always said he was on some kind of power trip. His father was Detective Alan Slater. You've probably heard of him."

"Heard of him? My dad couldn't stop talking about him after he made those big drug busts in the late seventies," Alex said, "so Owen's his son?"

"Yes and Charlie always said he wanted to be bigger and better than his old man and that he would do anything to get there." She sat down on the couch and wrapped her arms around her. "She called me…after it happened…" she sniffed back tears, "I told her then that she had to get out before…before the same thing happened to her."

"It happened." Diane looked at Bobby. "You said 'after it happened.' After what happened?"

"After Owen killed their colleague, Paul."

Bobby froze. "Paul Roscoe?" Diane nodded. "Owen Slater killed Paul Roscoe?"

"Yes! Right in front of them. They were all terrified!"

"Who are 'they?'"

"Charlie, Jenny, Lisa and Gabrielle. Charlie said Owen called them his 'bitch squad.'" Diane laughed mirthlessly. "Charlie said, that Owen said, that if they told anybody, he would kill them too. Charlie was so frightened for herself and for Josh, her son."

"Why did Owen kill Roscoe?" Alex nodded.

"I don't know. Charlie wouldn't tell me. After Gabrielle was murdered…well she just wanted to run."

"Do you know where she is?"

"No," she wiped her eyes, "but I know she'll call when she can. When she feels safe." She looked up at them. "She needs to protect Josh. He's her child. He has to come first."

XXXX

"So, Owen kills Paul," Bobby said as they drove back to the city. "Why?"

"Owen's involved in something and Paul found out?"

"So Owen kills him in front of the others as a warning to them to keep quiet?"

"Nice guy."

"Paul was killed execution style. To make it look as if Carlos Sanchez was responsible."

"Maybe Sanchez was in on Roscoe's murder. Maybe he sanctioned it," Alex replied, "Maybe the dodgy business Owen's involved in relates to Sanchez. Maybe it's one more feather in Sanchez's cap to take out a cop."

"Ok, so Owen executes Paul on Sanchez's say-so…but what about Gabrielle? That wasn't an execution. It was…messy…unprofessional…"

"Whereas Jenny Patrick…"

"She _was _executed," Bobby mused, "Maybe another Sanchez sponsored hit?"

"Which would mean that Gabrielle was…what? Owen's present to himself?"

At that moment, Bobby's cell rang and, lifting it out of his pocket, he recognised Emily's number. "Hello?"

"Bobby…" he could hear the relief in her voice. "I'm so glad I got you."

"What is it?" he asked, his antennae up.

"I was hoping…I mean…" he heard her voice crack, "Are you…free?"

"Uh…I'm on my way back to the city right now. What's wrong?" He felt cautious. While he knew that time spent with her was time well spent, he was wary of her descending into more anger and tears.

"It's…" she paused, "these phone calls I'm getting, I…"

"What phone calls?"

"I don't know. Someone keeps calling and…and not saying anything and then hanging up I…I called the local precinct and asked them for the luds but they won't give them to me and…all night and…and then this afternoon…"

"Ok," he replied, "ok, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Problem?" Alex asked as he hung up.

"Emily's getting crank calls."

"Slater?"

"He's systematically taking out all the people who know how deep he's in with Sanchez. Paul…Gabrielle…Jenny…he's got Charlie on the run…"

"That only leaves Lisa."

"The one with the unswerving loyalty." Bobby bit his lip. "But why Emily?"

"You know," Alex said as they reached the city limits, "this is all pure speculation. We haven't got a shred of credible evidence linking Slater to any of this."

"He's involved in this," Bobby said, "I know he is and I'll be damned if I let him do anything to Emily. Or Amy."

"What if she involved in it with him?" Alex looked at her partner as she said it, but Bobby didn't answer.


	12. Agony and Ecstacy

**Warning: mature content ahead. I'm sure you can guess...!**

**Brooklyn**

**August 2005**

Emily had the front door open before Bobby had even gotten out of the car. She stood at the top of the steps, nervously wringing her hands, watching as he said goodbye to Alex.

"If you need anything…" she started to say.

"Thanks." He got out of the car and watched her drive away before making his way up the front steps to where Emily was waiting. "You ok?"

"Not really." She turned and walked back into the house, closing the door after he had followed her and double locking it. He could hear the sound of the television coming from the living room. "Amy's watching cartoons," she explained. "She wanted to play outside but…"

"So, what's been happening?" He kept his voice as neutral as possible. There was little point in adding to her obvious panic.

"I woke up at four this morning with the phone ringing," she replied, leading the way into the kitchen. "When I answered it, there was no-one there. Or rather," she added, "no-one who would speak. Just…heavy breathing. And then after that, the phone just kept ringing. On and on and all today too." She gestured to the wall where he saw that she had ripped the cradle out. "I couldn't take anymore! I don't…I don't understand what's happening…" she put her head in her hands and started to cry.

Bobby hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should go to her, but she made the decision for him. She stepped forward and he had no choice but to open his arms and let her inside his embrace. He held her for a long moment, awkwardly rubbing her back, unsure as to what her sudden need for contact symbolised but all too aware of the effect it had on him.

"And then…" she suddenly jerked back from him, "I called the local precinct for the luds on my phone and they wouldn't give them to me! Said they could only give out that sort of information to serving police officers! I mean, what does that make me, Bobby? Some kind of has-been? I was a detective for five years before I quit to have Amy. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Ok," he placated her as he pulled out his cell. "What precinct is it?"

Ten minutes later he walked into the living room where Emily was perched on the arm of the couch staring at the TV screen. Amy was on the couch. When she saw him, she leapt off of it and rushed over to him. "Bobby!"

"Hey," he greeted her, bending down to her level and hugging her aware of Emily watching him, "How are you?"

"Ok," she replied solemnly. "I'm watching My Little Pony. Do you want to watch with me?"

"Give me a sec, ok? I need to talk to your Mom." He gestured for Emily to come back into the kitchen. "They're going to email the list to me. Can I check on your computer?"

"Oh great. One call from the famous Goren and we're good to go." The hurt must have shown on his face because she quickly backtracked. "Sorry. Sure, but can you access the police computer remotely?"

"Things have moved on since you were last in a squadroom."

She smiled wanly. "It's through in the study." She led him into a small, tidy office with a desk, two chairs a bookcase filled with files and a computer. She switched it on for him and stepped back. Bobby sat down in the chair at the desk and once the computer was logged on, proceeding to tap into the police server. As he waited for it to connect, he turned around and looked at where Emily was gazing out of the window.

"Amy seems…in good spirits."

"She's four years old sat watching My Little Pony," Emily replied, "for her, life doesn't get much better."

"And for you?"

She turned to face him and met his gaze, "If I had one wish?" She paused. "I'm not sure one would be enough, Bobby. You're in." She gestured with her head and he turned back to face the computer. A few clicks later and the printer was spewing out a sheet of numbers. Emily pulled the second chair up beside him and looked at the list. "I recognise these ones," she said, pointing, "My sister…my mother…the dry cleaner…"

"What about the ones this morning?"

Emily scrutinised the number which first showed up at four am and every half hour after that until just after lunch when she had disconnected the phone. "It's the same number and…I don't recognise it."

"It's a cell phone number."

"Can you get it traced?"

Bobby made another call to the precinct. "They're a little backed up but they're going to do what they can. They should have something later this evening."

Emily sat back in her chair and let out a long breath. "I know the drill. It'll be a prepaid unregistered cell phone that no-one can trace."

Bobby thought hard before asking his next question. "Do you know Owen Slater's number?"

Emily shook her head, "No. Why?"

He shrugged, "Well…you never know…"

She sat forward, "You think it could be Owen?" He didn't reply. "Bobby, what aren't you telling me?" He still didn't reply. "If this has something to do with Paul's death, I think I have a right to know!"

"He came to visit you," Bobby said, dodging her original question. "Remember? You told me at the picnic."

"So what?"

"What did he say to you?" He watched the wheels turning in her head, watched her struggle with whether or not to tell him. "Emily, you can trust me."

She sighed, "Ok. If you must know, he freaked me out."

"Freaked you out how?"

"They way he was talking to me, it…" she ran a hand through her hair. "I've known Owen almost as long as I knew Paul. They were 'buddies' and there was a time when Owen was always around here. I never felt comfortable around him, never. I always felt he was…looking at me. And then one night, after we'd had a barbeque, he came onto me. Nothing happened," she said, pre-empting his next question, "I told him to get lost and he did. He was drunk and…and I put it down to that."

"So what happened when he came to see you?"

"He was talking about the grilling he kept getting from you and your partner. About how there was more to the investigation than you were letting on. And then…"

"What?" he pressed her.

"Well, I said that I thought that the same person who had killed Paul had killed Gabrielle. Sanchez. Then Owen said that…well, that if anyone asked me, that was the story I should stick to. Or words to that effect."

Bobby shook his head, "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"Why would I have?" she shot back. "Do you think Owen's involved?"

"We went to see Charlie Mayer's sister up in Baltimore. Like you suggested."

"And was Charlie there?"

"No. She's gone into hiding. Because of Owen."

"Because of Owen what?" Emily demanded, "Jesus, Bobby, you can be so…frustrating sometimes! Just get to the fucking point!"

He ignored her bad language. "Her sister told us that Charlie and the other girls in the squad witnessed Owen…well…witnessed him killing Paul."

Bobby watched as the blood drained from Emily's face. She stared at him with a horrified expression. "No," she whispered quietly, "no…they were…they were friends. He wouldn't…"

"We don't have any evidence to back that up yet but…"

"Oh God," Emily said, getting to her feet. "Oh God, Paul…but why…?" she asked, "why would he do that?"

"We don't know. Maybe Paul found out that Owen was involved in something he shouldn't be. It's all…speculation at the moment. But you're right, you had a right to know."

Emily was prevented from saying anything else by Amy appearing at the door of the room. "Mommy, I'm hungry."

"Oh…uh…" he watched her fight her way back to normality, "Uh…sure honey. I'll make you something." She turned to him, "Do you want to stay?" He opened his mouth to respond. "If I'm being honest…it's not a request."

"Sure," he replied, "Sure, I'll stay."

XXXX

Amy chattered non-stop throughout dinner about everything from kindergarten, to her friends, to My Little Pony. Bobby interacted with her, answering her questions and asking some of his own. He noticed that Emily barely touched the pasta she had made. Indeed, she made little contribution except for when the phone rang just after six and she leapt almost three feet in the air. She had immediately looked at him as if to say 'you made me reconnect it.'

"Do you want me to…?" he had asked.

She had refused and had slowly walked over to it, her hand shaking as she reached for the receiver. When she had answered, he had seen a look of relief wash over her. "Hi Michelle."

"Can I be excused?" Amy asked politely, looking at her mother. Emily didn't reply.

"Emily," Bobby said, jerking her back.

"Sorry? What?" she looked at her daughter, "Oh, sure, honey. You go and watch TV." She waited until Amy had left the room before pushing her plate away from herself. "How much longer?"

"Until what?" Bobby asked.

"Until the precinct call back with the owner of the cell phone."

"Oh…" he took his phone from his pocket. "I'll call and check with them." He wandered into the study to make the call and when he hung up came back into the kitchen to find Emily stacking the dishwasher. "You were right," he told her, "Unregistered, prepaid cell."

She slammed the dishwasher door shut. "I knew it! Fucking typical!"

"I've asked them to put a trace on the phone."

Emily nodded and ran a hand over her eyes and then looked back at him. "Funny how no-one's called since you've been here. Even after I reconnected it."

Bobby understood what she was saying and immediately moved to the kitchen window to look out at the garden. The sun was still shining and the garden looked deserted. "Oh Jesus," he heard her whisper, "what if someone's been watching the house?"

"I'll check," he said, moving over to the back door. "Stay here." He unlocked the door and stepped out into the evening sunshine. He walked around the side of the house all the way to the back of the garden, checking everywhere he could think of. There was no sign of any disturbance. No indication that anyone was watching.

Emily met him at the door. "Anything?"

He shook his head, "No."

"Well…that's something I suppose." She stepped back to allow him in and locked the door again behind him. "I don't suppose…I mean…unless you're keen to get home…"

"No," he said, "I was going to ask if you'd mind me…uh…staying to play with Amy for a while."

"She'd like that," Emily replied. "And…so would I."

XXX

It was almost surreal, Bobby thought hours later as he tucked Amy into bed. The evening had passed so normally, despite the fact that Emily had glanced at the phone every few minutes as though she expected it to start ringing. It didn't. Indeed, it didn't ring once after her sister called. Amy had been thrilled at having him to play with for the evening and had succeeded in bringing out what seemed like every toy she possessed for him to admire. She never once mentioned her father. Emily had sat on the couch watching, occasionally joining in. For the most part, however, she had left the two of them to it. Part of him liked that she did that, for it meant quality time one on one with his daughter. But another part of him knew that her reasons for doing it were more due to distraction and worry than any conscience effort on her part to allow father and daughter to bond.

At eight o'clock, Emily announced that it was time for Amy to go to bed and a half hour of protest ensued. Amy cried lustily and at one point, Bobby thought Emily was going to cry again too. Eventually, the little girl went to bed, pacified only by his promise that he would come and play with her again soon. He read her a story and sat by her bedside until he knew she was asleep before leaving the room and heading back downstairs.

He found Emily on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand, another on the table for him. "I don't usually sit around the house and drink," she said as soon as he walked in, "but the last few weeks…and today…" she took a sip, "well…"

Bobby sat down beside her but made no move to lift his own glass. "I'm sorry if I upset you earlier." She turned to look at him, "About Owen and Paul."

She shook her head, "I just can't believe that Owen…" she trailed off, "but then, I don't really know him. I never did." He watched her look at the picture of Paul on the table. "You know, if there was a choice, I'd rather he had been killed by Sanchez. Killed by the enemy, by someone he was trying to bring down. Not by someone that he thought was his friend."

"We don't know yet who it was," Bobby reminded her.

"If Owen killed Paul, does that mean he killed Gabrielle too?"

"I don't know. Jenny Patrick's dead too."

Emily's eyes widened, "When?"

"Last night. I got the call after I left here."

"And does it look like…?"

"She was killed the same way Paul was."

"Shit…" Emily breathed. "For once, I'm glad I'm not involved in this case."

"Do you miss it?" Bobby asked her.

"Sometimes," she replied, "when I see things on the news or I talk to people I know who are serving cops. I sometimes think about how good it would be to be back in the action. But, I've got Amy to look after. Paul always said that was a more important job. Maybe when she starts school next year I'll think about going back part time. In fact," she added, "there'll be no 'think' about it. I'll have to. I still need to pay all the bills."

"If you need money…" he ventured slowly.

"I don't."

"I meant…for Amy. You know…child support…"

She smiled at him, "You're very sweet, Bobby. But you didn't ask to be her father."

"But I want to be."

"I know, but you know that I can't…not right now. She wouldn't understand."

He knew that she was speaking the truth, but it didn't stop the gnawing in his gut. The agony of when Amy called him 'Bobby' when he really wanted her to call him 'Daddy.'

"You should have got married, Bobby." He was brought back to reality by Emily's statement.

"To who?"

She smiled, "To someone very lucky. We talked about it a long time ago, remember?"

"That night in the squad room." The first night they had kissed. As if he could forget it. "Well I've…still never found the right one."

"You will." He looked at her, her face in the dimming light, her eyes shining with something he couldn't place. Before he knew where he was, he was kissing her. "No," Emily said when he made to pull back, angry with himself, "Don't stop."

He kissed her again, more forcefully this time, his lips moving over hers, his tongue probing into the wetness of her mouth and meeting her own. After a few moments, she crawled into his lap, the very pressure of her body against his causing him to harden. They broke apart breathlessly and Emily immediately drew her sweater up and over her head, revealing a lace bra that, if he hadn't known better he would have swore she had put on because she knew this was going to happen, indeed had wanted it to happen. He kissed the swell of her chest, up her throat and back to her mouth again, his hands running gently along her torso and up to her shoulders.

"Bobby…" she whispered his name in the same moment that he pushed himself off of the couch and gently lowered her onto her back on the floor. They sank into the thick rug in front of the fireplace and Emily started unbuttoning his shirt. The feel of her hands on his bare skin only served to excite him more and he kissed her again, harder. Her fingers fumbled with the fly on his pants and for a moment, the metal stuck and he had to help her. "Sorry," she apologised, "I guess I'm not…" He didn't let her finish, cutting her off with the force of his mouth while she pushed his pants down over his thighs. His boxers followed quickly after and when he felt her hand somewhat nervously graze his shaft, he thought he was going to orgasm right then and there.

Emily reached under herself and unclipped her bra which Bobby quickly removed. Then he started on the tender flesh, kissing, sucking and biting, causing her to moan above him and grip him harder. Trailing hot kisses down her stomach, he unzipped her jeans and wriggled them off down her legs, leaving only the matching lace thong. Rather than immediately remove it, he kissed her through the sheer material, causing her to cry out. Then, with painstaking slowness, he slid it down over her thighs. Instinctively, she brought her legs up and Bobby lowered his head between them, his tongue searching out her sweetest spot.

Emily cried out again and he felt her fingers grip his hair. He continued to probe her until he knew she was close, until he could feel her body start to tremble above him and then he removed himself, sliding back up her body and kissing her again. He settled himself between her legs and was about to slip inside her when she brought him up sharp.

"Wait!" she said breathlessly.

He paused, "What is it?"

"I thought I heard…" he could see her straining to hear, "I thought I heard…Amy…Amy can't find us like this…"

"She's asleep," he reassured her, "she won't wake up. But…if you'd rather not…" Every part of his body was screaming out that he needed to be inside of her immediately, but he still had enough rationale to give her the option to stop now.

"No," she shook her head, "no, I want to…I need to…please…"

She didn't need to beg. He slid easily inside of her, hearing himself cry out along side her at the sweet ache caused by their union. Emily wrapped her legs around his waist, her hips rising to meet his as they started moving together. All of the old memories came suddenly flooding back. In Bobby's mind, they were back in the motel room, making love for the first and only time. Making Amy… This time, however, when he opened his eyes and looked at Emily, she was looking at him. As opposed to before, when he had mistaken her screwed shut eyes for pleasure but which he now realised had really been an attempt to hide who she had been making love with and so block out her guilt.

He kept looking at her the whole time he moved inside her and she kept looking at him. It was as if their eye contact was part of their bodily connection. Even when they began to move faster as they neared their climax they never broke eye contact. Then, it all seemed to become too much for Emily. As her orgasm washed over her, she arched her body back against his, her eyes closing, her voice coming out in rapid, breathless bursts, "Yes…yes…oh God…Bobby…Bobby…" The sound of his name only made him thrust harder, pushing her over the edge, watching as she fell down the other side, seeing the blush rise on her cheeks, visible even in the dim light.

Her body started to slow, but he wasn't quite there yet. She opened her eyes again to watch him, her hands reaching up to cup his face, her thighs tightening around him, squeezing until he could feel the blessed release coming. He could hear himself crying out, but he didn't know what he was saying. There was a buzzing in his ears growing louder and louder until he almost couldn't take it. Then, he felt himself spurt with a rush inside her and, exhausted, lowered himself gently down on top of her.

They lay like that for a long moment, both breathing heavily. Then, Emily pushed him away gently and rolled over onto her side so that they were lying facing each other. He was too spent to move and she reached over and kissed him gently, before nestling herself next to him.

Bobby felt complete and he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that she had completed him. Instead, it came out as "I love you." As soon as he had said it, he expected her to tense up, to pull away from him. Instead, she let out a long sigh and buried her face in his chest. But not before he had heard her reply.

"I only wish I could give you what you want."


	13. Aftermath and Arrest

**Hey guys - keep those reviews coming! They keep me going! Deleriousdancer, thank you so much for the indepth ones!! I'm always interested to hear how people think the story is going to end or where it's going, so if you have any ideas...**

**Baltimore**

**August 2005**

Diane Mayer jerked awake as the phone rang. It was still dark outside and her clock radio indicated it was only three am. She flicked on the bedside light and reached for the receiver on the bedside table.

"Hello?" her voice was croaky with sleep.

"Diane? Diane, it's me."

"Charlie?" Diane sat bolt upright, all thoughts of sleep forgotten, "Charlie, are you ok? Where are you?"

"I can't tell you. Are _you _ok?"

"I'm fine, but…I'm worried about you. Are you safe? Is Josh ok?"

"We're fine," Charlie replied, her voice cracking slightly, "We miss you."

"God, I miss you too," Diane moaned, "Can't you even give me a hint as to where you are?"

"No. You don't know who could be listening."

Diane froze, "You think…you think my phone could be tapped?"

"I wouldn't put anything past Slater. Have you seen him? Has he been near you?"

"No," Diane shook her head, despite the fact her sister couldn't see the action. "But two detectives came here looking for you."

"Detectives? Who were they?"

"They were from the Major Case Squad," Diane relayed, "they're investigating Gabrielle's death."

"Have they linked it to Paul?"

"Well…" Diane paused, "I told them."

"Told them what?"

"I told them that Owen killed Paul."

"Christ, Diane!" Charlie swore, "What the hell did you do that for?"

"I had to!" Diane retaliated, "Charlie, I'm so worried about you and Josh! I'm terrified that Owen tracks you down and kills you both. You said yourself he was crazy. If the police can catch him now…"

"Did you tell them about Emily?"

"No."

"You should have."

"Oh shit, Charlie, give me a list why don't you! I can't remember who I'm supposed to tell what to!"

"Ok," Charlie said, "I'm sorry. I'm just…this is just all so hard…"

"I know," Diane comforted her, "but hopefully it'll all be over soon and the two of you can come home."

"Emily needs to know," Charlie said sombrely, "before the police find out first. Diane, I need you to tell her for me. Please."

"Ok," Diane said, "first thing in the morning, I'll go down to Brooklyn. I'll go and see her. Just…just promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise," Charlie replied, "I have to go." Before Diane could say anything else, the line went dead.

**Brooklyn**

**August 2005**

"Thank you," Emily said the following morning as daylight slowly began to filter through the bedroom window.

"What for?" Bobby asked, looking up from where he was zipping up his pants.

"Last night," she replied, "and this. For understanding."

Bobby looked at her slightly worried face. He knew she was deliberately keeping her voice down in case Amy woke up. After they had caught their breath and disentangled themselves from each other, she had insisted that they get dressed. He had never known that watching a woman put _on _her clothes could be as erotic as watching her take them off. Then, she had pushed him out of the living room. At first, he had thought she was throwing him out, but instead, she had taken his hand and led him upstairs. Not, as he had thought, to the master bedroom, but to the spare room at the end of the hallway.

She had seen his confusion and had tried to explain. "I can't…not…not Paul's bed." He had known better than to argue with her and, if he was being honest, the searing heat in his groin had been taking up more of his attention. In the spare room, she had left the door slightly ajar and then led him over to the bed. Pressing herself close to him she had whispered in his ear, "I made you get dressed so we could take it all off again." He had, of course, obliged.

The night had seemed endless. Again and again they had made love, Emily only pausing to whisper that they had to keep quiet so that Amy wouldn't hear. The enforced silence had only served to make him more excited and he had cried her name into the crease of her neck instead. When they could move no longer, she had sleepily asked him if he would mind leaving before Amy woke up the next morning and in his blissful haze of pleasure he had agreed.

"It's no problem," he said now, although he wished he could stay longer.

"I'm sorry," she said, "it makes it seem…sordid but…I couldn't deal with her questions right now. Not when I'm…well…dealing with this."

He finished fastening his belt and leant across the bed to kiss her, "I said it was ok."

She responded hungrily but then pulled back. "Don't…" she groaned, "or you'll never get out of here, trust me." When he had finished dressing, she got out of bed, pulled on her robe and followed him downstairs. "Do you want some breakfast before you go?"

"Depends what you're offering," he replied, pulling her into his arms and kissing her again, his hands wandering under the robe to her nakedness underneath.

"Bobby," Emily began, pulling back, "what I said last night…" Before she could continue, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Lifting it out, he saw it was Ross.

"Sorry," he apologised, flicking it open. "Goren."

"Sorry to call you so early Detective."

"That's ok," he replied as Emily, seemingly unable to stop herself, stepped into him and kissed him again. He wrapped his arm around her.

"I thought you should know that ballistics have confirmed that the gun you found in Jenny Patrick's apartment was indeed the murder weapon."

_Tell me something I don't know…_Bobby thought, his fingers brushing over Emily's nipple causing her to groan softly in his ear.

"They've also traced the serial number. The gun is registered to Paul Roscoe." At this revelation, Bobby jerked back from Emily, who looked up at him in confusion.

"Are…are you sure?" he asked.

"Positive," came the reply, "and the other thing is that they found prints on the gun. Emily Roscoe's prints." Bobby looked at Emily who frowned as if to say 'what?' "I want her brought in for questioning," Ross continued. "Now."

"Uh…yes Captain."

"I somehow get the feeling you won't have to travel too far to notify her," Ross continued, "I may need to speak to you about that later." With that, he hung up.

Bobby slowly closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. He lifted his gaze and met Emily's.

"What is it?" she asked. "Has something happened?"

"We…uh…we found a gun at Jenny Patrick's apartment," he told her, "the Captain just confirmed that it was the murder weapon."

"And?" she asked, not fully comprehending.

"It's Paul's gun…"

"What?"

"…with your prints on it."

If the first part of the sentence had astounded Emily, the second part appeared to knock her for six. "My…my prints? But…"

"The Captain wants you brought in for questioning," Bobby hurried on. "He wants you in right now."

She looked at him, "Are you arresting me?"

Bobby knew that given the information he had just received, he really should arrest her. If it had been anyone else…if he hadn't just spent the most incredible night with her…

"Well?" she demanded, "are you?"

"No," he replied, "no, but…but you should get dressed. And we'll need to get someone to watch Amy."

Emily didn't move, "I can't believe this. I don't understand…"

"You should get dressed now," he said, not wanting to sound demanding but wanting to get the whole sorry mess straightened out as soon as possible.

"Ok," she said, "ok, I'll…I'll get dressed. Michelle…I should call Michelle. She can watch Amy…" she started to climb the stairs and then stopped. She turned back to look at him, "Bobby, I didn't…I mean…I'm not involved in this. You have to know that…"

"I know," he replied, but he couldn't meet her gaze and he knew that she knew that he was lying. After Emily disappeared from view, he dialled Alex's number. She answered on the first ring.

"I know," she said before he could say anything. "The Captain called me. I'll meet you at 1PP."

**New York City**

**August 2005**

By the time they reached the parking garage, Bobby realised they had gone a whole half hour without speaking. Emily had driven, slightly too fast in his opinion, and had never said anything. She didn't try to justify it, she didn't say that she didn't believe it was happening…she just stayed silent. As if remembering her rights.

He opened the main building door for her and let her go in first. The security guard on the front desk nodded to him sleepily but made no further comment. The lift was already at the ground floor and as they stepped in, he pressed for the eleventh floor.

"Is there anything you don't want me to say?" Emily asked suddenly as the lift ascended slowly.

He turned to her, "How do you mean?"

She looked at him, "I mean, I don't think you want your Captain to know that we were together last night, do you?"

"I think he already knows," Bobby replied.

"Oh." She turned away from him. "I see. So when I run out of things to say in interrogation I can start giving you marks out of ten."

"Emily…"

"What did he do? Send you over to get me all loosened up before dropping this on me?"

"Of course not."

"You must have known, Bobby. You must have suspected…"

"Suspected what?"

"About the gun." She turned angry eyes on him, "You knew all along it was Paul's, didn't you?"

"No," he replied firmly.

"You hoped I'd say something to incriminate myself while I was turning to you in my hour of need," she continued, "the sex must have just been a bonus for you."

"Emily…"

"You told me you loved me!" she glared at him. "Although admittedly, you had just come."

"I meant it," he said, ignoring her crudeness.

"You don't know what the word means!" she shot back. "It's all about Amy for you. You don't really care about me. You just want to get close to her and you figure that getting me into bed is the way to do it. What's your real plan, Bobby? Get me convicted for something I didn't do so that you can get custody?"

"Jesus…you're so wrong…"

"Then why are you looking at me as if you know I've done something wrong?" He had no answer for her and all he could think to do was look away. The lift doors began to open. "What is happening to my life?"

He had no opportunity to respond. Ross was standing on the other side of the doors, Alex a few paces behind. He glanced briefly at Bobby before focusing his attention on Emily. "Mrs Roscoe. I'm Captain Ross. Thank you for coming in." He glanced down at her hands, "I see we were able to forgo the needs for handcuffs."

"I didn't arrest her," Bobby found his voice.

Ross looked at him for a long moment. "I see." He looked back at Emily, "I'm very sorry for your recent loss, Mrs Roscoe but I know that you're a former detective so I'm sure you can appreciate…"

Emily turned to Bobby and held out her hands. He felt everyone in the room watching him, waiting for him to do his job the way he was supposed to. But he found he couldn't move, couldn't reach for the cuffs on his belt, couldn't drag his mind away from what they had done the previous night…couldn't bring himself to read the mother of his child her rights.

Alex stepped forward and gently took Emily's wrists to place them in cuffs. "Emily Roscoe, I'm arresting you on suspicion on the murder of Jenny Patrick. You have the right to remain silent. Should you give up that right, anything you do say may be taken down…"

"It's ok," Emily interrupted, her eyes never leaving Bobby's face. "I waive."

Ross motioned towards interrogation and watched as Alex led Emily away. Then he turned back to Bobby. "I think you should sit this one out Detective. I'm getting the sense that you wouldn't be entirely impartial."

"Captain…"

"If you're about to tell me that Mrs Roscoe is innocent, then you're going to have to give me some evidence not based on how fantastic I'm sure she is in bed." Bobby opened his mouth to respond but Ross held up his hand. "Not now. But rest assured we _will _be having a conversation about this and you'd better be ready to tell me everything."


	14. Interrogation and Insights

**New York City**

**August 2005**

Ross closed the door to the interrogation room. "I appreciate you coming in Mrs Roscoe."

"You said that already," Emily replied, placing her cuffed wrists on the table in front of her. "It's not as if I had much choice."

"You could always have made a run for it between Detective Goren informing you that you required to come downtown and actually arriving here. I'm sure there was time for you to jump out of the window while you were getting dressed."

Emily's jaw dropped and she looked at Alex who looked slightly uncomfortable, "If you're trying to get me to say anything about Bobby…"

"What is the nature of your relationship with Detective Goren?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I think you know exactly what I mean."

"Why don't you tell me what this has to do with Jenny Patrick?"

"Why don't you answer my question?"

_Damn it_, Emily thought. "Bobby and I go way back. We worked together for a few months about five years ago."

"Is that all?" Ross looked at her hard.

"What else were you expecting?"

"Did you know Jenny Patrick?" Alex asked, steering the conversation back to what they were really there for.

"No," Emily asked, looking at her gratefully. "I told Bobby that when he asked me."

"Detective Goren mentioned Jenny Patrick to you?" Ross pounced.

"Yes," Emily replied, trying to cover her mistake.

"When?"

"A couple of days ago. He asked me if I knew any of the other detectives working on the task force with Paul. He mentioned Jenny's name. I hadn't heard of her."

"So, you'd never met her?"

"No."

"We found your husband's gun in her home."

"I know."

"It was the gun that was used to kill her." Ross waited. "You knew she was dead?"

"Yes, Bobby told me."

"When did he tell you?" Emily paused. "I said, when did he tell you?"

"I heard you," she replied. "Last night."

"I see. I'm sure I don't need to ask at what point in the evening that came up."

"Are you for real?" Emily exclaimed. "When I was working…"

"Now you're not," Ross said. "Do you know how your husband's gun might have ended up at Jenny's home?"

"No," Emily replied, "I never got his gun back after he died. I assumed the department had held onto it for…tests or…"

"Or…?"

"I'm not familiar with the procedure after a cop dies. I didn't know if the department took the gun back."

Ross lifted a file and flicked through it. "According to the file on your husband's murder, he was unarmed when he was shot."

Emily closed her eyes briefly, thinking about what Bobby had told her about Owen. "I didn't know that."

"He was an undercover cop. Can you think of any reason why he would be unarmed at the time of his death?"

"Maybe he felt safe," she whispered.

"I didn't catch that," Ross leaned forward.

"I said," Emily lifted her head, "Maybe he felt safe."

"That's a curious thought," Ross replied, cocking his head on one side. "What makes you say that?"

Emily glanced at Alex and read the other woman's expression. _Bobby's told you, _it said. "I…I don't know," she replied, "but Paul was a very good cop and he wouldn't have gone anywhere without his weapon…unless he felt safe."

"Is it likely he felt safe around Carlos Sanchez?"

"I thought we were here to talk about Jenny Patrick's murder, not my husband's?"

"We are. But somehow, they all seem to fit together, wouldn't you agree?" Emily didn't respond. "Now, is it likely that your husband would have felt safe around Carlos Sanchez?"

"No."

"Perhaps if he was involved with Sanchez in some way?"

"Like what?" Emily's head flew up and she glared at Ross, "In some way like what?"

"Maybe he was in cahoots with Sanchez. Is that possible?"

"What are you saying? That my husband was corrupt? That is the biggest lie I have ever heard!" Pain shot through Emily. Pain of loyalty mixed with the sweet ache of guilt. "My husband was a good cop! He would never have done anything like what you're suggesting!"

"Maybe Jenny found out," Ross continued, "Maybe she threatened to expose him? Take away all the accolades he received after his death…"

"No!" Emily exclaimed.

"Maybe you needed to shut her up…"

"Captain…" Alex broke in.

"No!" Emily was on her feet now, "That's a lie! Paul was an honest cop! He would never…I would never…" rage choked her so that she couldn't speak.

"Captain, a word?" Alex gestured to the door. Reluctantly, Ross got to his feet and they two of them left the room.

Emily sat back down on the chair, fighting to catch her breath. The very insinuation that Paul had ever been less than completely honest enraged her. It hurt and angered her more than any insinuation about her own actions. He would never have been involved in anything corrupt or underhanded. No, she was the one who couldn't be trusted. She was the one who cheated and lied. She was the one who had tried to convince her husband for five years that the child they were raising together was genetically his. She was the one who had never let on to anyone that she had shared a night of pleasure with another man. She was the one who had made love to that same man in her husband's home only a few short hours ago…

If she had had something to throw at the wall, she would have. Instead, she did the only other thing open to her. She cried.

XXXX

"This isn't the way to get her," Alex said to Ross as they stood in the observation room watching Emily. "If she's involved in this…"

"If?" Ross looked at her, "Prints on the murder weapon aren't good enough for you?"

Alex sighed, "They could have gotten there at any time. If Roscoe didn't have the gun with him, if he'd left it at home, there's every possibility that Emily touched it."

"You heard her. He wouldn't have gone anywhere unarmed."

"Unless he felt safe," Alex reminded her.

"Yeah right. Safe with a notorious drug dealer like Carlos Sanchez. If he felt safe enough around Sanchez to be unarmed then he was definitely in on something."

"There's another theory."

"What's that?"

"That Sanchez didn't kill Roscoe."

"Why do I get the feeling this is your partner talking?" Ross asked.

"I'm speaking for both of us," Alex said. "We spoke to Charlie Mayer's sister, Diane. She told us that Charlie said that Owen Slater killed Paul Roscoe."

"Oh not this again," Ross said, "so we're back to Slater? Alex, just because the guy's an arrogant son-of-a-bitch doesn't make him a murderer!"

"I know that! But just because the Chief of Detectives tells you that Carlos Sanchez is the killer doesn't make it so." Ross looked at her unbelievingly. "If Jenny Patrick knew or saw Slater kill Roscoe, maybe Slater killed her to shut her up."

"And what? Used Roscoe's gun? Planted Emily's prints on it?"

Alex shrugged, "Nothing about this is straightforward."

"Ok," Ross sighed, "You have another crack at Emily. I need to have a word with your partner."

"Captain," Alex stopped him before he moved away. "Go easy on him. This is…well it's personal."

"Yes Alex, I figured that much."

"No, I mean it's _really_ personal."

XXXX

Bobby was sat at his desk pretty much staring into space in the deserted squadroom when his boss approached. He had wanted to observe the interrogation, but when it came down to it, couldn't quite bring himself to do so. If it was true, if she was involved, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Detective." Ross pulled up a chair alongside him. "I think we have some things to talk about, don't you?" Bobby didn't reply, "Your relationship with Emily Roscoe for a start."

"She's the mother of my child and we slept together last night." This information stunned Ross in temporary silence. "That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?"

"I figured the latter. Let's start with her being the mother of your child," Ross said slowly. "I take it this isn't something you've known about for very long."

Bobby shook his head, "Only since the start of this investigation."

"And how did you…?"

"Her medical records. Her daughter Amy…our daughter Amy…was born prematurely. I just counted back the months."

"That must have been quite a shock for you." Again Bobby didn't reply. "So you've been trying to…build a relationship with…Amy, is it?"

"Yes. And Emily."

"I see. And this led to you being with her last night?" Bobby nodded. "Have you told her anything about the investigation?"

"Only that…that Jenny Patrick was murdered and…" he fought for the words.

"And what?"

"And that Owen Slater may have killed her husband."

Ross nodded, "What about the note she gave you?" For the first time Bobby met his gaze. "Did you tell her that the note to her husband was written by Gabrielle Lewis?" When Bobby didn't answer he continued, "I got the invoice from Princeton for the analysis. Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"I didn't…I didn't intentionally keep it from you. I was going to explain what we had found…"

"So your partner knew about this."

"She's not involved," Bobby said fiercely, "this has nothing to do with Eames. It's all me. Me and Emily."

"You told Emily Roscoe, a potential suspect…"

"I didn't know that she was a suspect!"

"…details of a police investigation…"

"Details that might have helped her find out the truth about what happened to her husband…"

"…so you could get into her pants?"

"Jesus, it wasn't about that!" Bobby got to his feet, "It wasn't…" he paced in front of the desk before stopping and putting his head briefly in his hands, "It wasn't about that. It was about…it was about my daughter. The one I didn't know I had. It was about her mother…I…"

"Goren," Ross got to his feet, "There's a reason that we don't tell our wives, our parents, our kids about our cases. It's because we're not supposed to. It's because if some little detail gets out that shouldn't, a whole investigation could be ruined. You told Emily the identity of the person who wrote the note…"

"That's not a crime."

"…you gave Emily the names of cops on the Task Force…"

"Names that she could have found out herself!"

"It doesn't matter! The fact that these details came from you…" he lowered his voice as a couple of other cops sauntered in to begin their day. "You could have potentially tainted any future evidence. If this goes bad for Emily, then it'll all come out in court about what you told her."

"This is ridiculous."

Ross sighed heavily, "Your partner's having another go at Emily. If she confesses to this…"

"She won't. She won't because she's not involved."

"…then it won't just be her conduct that's called into question."

"If you're so sure that Emily killed Jenny then why didn't she kill the others? Why not go after Lisa Henderson and Charlie Mayer too?" Bobby squared up to his boss. "You've seen her. Do you really think she's capable? She's an NYPD detective for Christ's sake! She's a mother!"

"There's nothing new about cops killing cops," Ross said. "and just because she has a child…"

"She has _my_ child."

Ross shook his head slowly. "Let me tell you two things Detective. One, start thinking with the head that's highest on your body."

Bobby digested this. "And the second?"

"You're off this case."

"What?"

"I said, you're off this case." Ross started to walk away and then turned back, "and just be grateful you're not off my squad."


	15. Recap and Remand?

**Keep reviewing please:) See if you can spot the VD'O other movie reference!**

**New York City**

**August 2005**

"Do you think I'm a killer?" Emily asked Alex as she came back into the interrogation room.

"Right now, I'm not sure what to think," Alex replied, sitting down opposite her. She could see the other woman's red eyes and knew she had been crying. "Why don't you tell me what you think is going on here?"

Emily looked down at her hands. "A couple of weeks ago, I got a call to say that my husband had been shot. That he had been killed." She looked up, "My world…my world as I knew it ended that very second. I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. I also knew that I would never have the chance to make things up with Paul. That he would never be able to forgive me for Amy."

"You mean the fact that she's Bobby's?" Emily nodded. "Go on."

"I hear on the news a few days later that Gabrielle Lewis has been killed. I knew Gabrielle. Paul talked about her being on the task force. Next thing I know, Bobby's at my door asking me questions about her."

"And then he discovers that Amy's his daughter."

"Everything turned upside down," Emily continued, "my feelings for Paul, my feelings for Bobby…" she rubbed her eyes. "All of a sudden, this man that I knew for only a short period of time, that I shared one night with, is in my life again. And I'm having feelings that no recently widowed wife is supposed to have. And I hate myself for them." Tears started to spill down her cheeks again and the pain increased in her gut. "And all of a sudden I'm sharing things with him and he's sharing things with me. I gave him the note that Paul got and he told me that Gabrielle wrote it. He asked me if I knew any of the other women on the task force and I said no to all but one."

"Charlie Mayer."

"Yes. I told him that Charlie used to date Paul and about Charlie's sister and then all of a sudden I start getting these crank calls."

Alex frowned, "Charlie used to date your husband?"

Emily nodded. "Yes. Before he met me."

"So, Bobby comes over to your place yesterday…"

"And we find out that we can't trace the number. Then he tells me that Jenny Patrick's dead and that maybe Owen Slater killed Paul and then, finally, we're in bed together." She looked up at Alex. "That's it. That's all I know about anything."

"Until Bobby told you that Jenny was dead, did you know?"

"No."

"Until he told you that Owen might have killed Paul, did you know?"

"Of course not. Do you think I would have let the man in my house if I knew that?"

"He visited you?"

Emily nodded, "I told Bobby last night. He was threatening towards me. Told me to stick to the story that Sanchez killed Paul and Gabrielle. Like I suspected anything else at that point. The first I knew about my potential involvement in any of this was Bobby telling me that you'd found my prints on Paul's gun."

"Did you ever handle Paul's gun?"

"Yes. when he was home. I would clean it for him when he couldn't be bothered. I'd put it away out of reach of Amy when he would forget. I didn't exactly use gloves when I did that."

Alex sat forwards, "When was the last time you saw the gun?"

"When Paul took it away when he went undercover. About…three weeks before he died."

"Like the Captain said, he was apparently unarmed when he was killed."

"Well, that would fit the theory of it being Slater. Paul trusted him implicitly. He wouldn't have felt he needed a gun."

"And, what about Charlie Mayer?"

"It's like I said. I only met her a couple of times." Emily slumped in her seat, "I'm telling you the truth. I don't know what more I can say."

At that moment, the door to the interrogation room opened and Ross reappeared. "I spoke with the DA," he said by way of greeting. "You'll be arraigned later this morning."

"You still don't believe me?" Emily exclaimed.

"It's not up to me." He looked uncomfortable. "I know that you waived your rights, but given that you are a former police officer and clearly…close to Detective Goren, are you sure that you don't want an attorney?"

Emily paused, "Can I see Bobby?"

Ross shook his head, "I'm sorry. Detective Goren is no longer working on this case." Alex looked at her boss sharply but he ignored her.

Emily shook her head in disbelief. "Then, yes, I would like to see an attorney please."

XXXX

"She's going for arraignment in two hours," Alex relayed to Bobby. She watched as her partner put his head in his hands. "Look, if it's any consolation, I don't believe she did it."

"Try telling that to him," Bobby said gesturing to Ross as he walked back to his office. "Man, this is so fucked up."

"I hear you're off the case," Alex said, "why don't you go and see Amy?"

"And tell her what? That her mother's been arrested for murder?" He shook his head, "No, I'm staying here. I'll go with her to arraignment."

"You know she might get remand."

"She's got a four year old daughter! She's just lost her husband! This is…" he trailed off, not quite sure what it was.

Alex glanced at Ross's office door. "I can keep Ross occupied. She's in holding. Go and see her." Bobby looked up at her. "Go, before the next time you see her you have to take a trip to Rikers."

He got up and walked through the squad room to the holding cell where Emily was sitting, her legs drawn up to her chest. When she saw him, she leapt to her feet and hurried forward to the bars. "Bobby…" her voice cracked, "they're arraigning me in a few hours…"

"I know," he told her, touching her fingers gently through the metal.

"I didn't kill Jenny Patrick. I'm not involved in any of this! You have to believe me!"

"I do believe you."

"And Amy! What's going to happen to Amy if I get locked up? She's just lost her father and now she's going to lose her mother…!" Emily started pacing behind the bars.

"It's ok," he told her, "I'll take care of Amy. Let's just get through arraignment first, ok?"

"I can't go to Rikers, Bobby, I can't! I won't survive it. I won't be able to…" she broke off and sank back down on the bench. "I can't believe this is happening to me."

"I'll talk to the DA before the arraignment. I'll…"

"Even if I get bail how am I going to make it? Michelle doesn't have any money and my parents…"

"We'll work it out," he told her fiercely. "You can't give up, Emily. You have to keep fighting. For Amy's sake, if for no other reason. If for nobody else."

She looked up at him. "What about you, Bobby? Should I be fighting for you?"

He looked at the ground, "I can't answer that for you."

"No, I guess not." She paused, "I'm sorry about the things I said to you in the elevator. I know that you wouldn't…" she broke off, "You should go. Before you get into trouble."

"I'm going to be at court, Emily."

"I know," she looked up at him again, "and I'm grateful. If only…"

"If only what?"

She looked away again, "Nothing. It doesn't matter now."

XXXX

The courtroom was busy but Bobby still managed to find a seat halfway down the room. Alex had come with him for moral support. Ross had given a disapproving look as they had both left the squad room but he hadn't stopped them. Right now, especially in the wake of him being removed from the case, Bobby didn't give a damn what his boss thought.

"You ok?" Alex asked as they waited.

He shook his head, "I don't know how I feel right now."

"Excuse me?" He looked up into the face of Emily's sister, Michelle. "What the hell is happening?"

Bobby stood up quickly, "Uh…is Amy ok?"

"She's fine. She's with my husband. What is going on? One minute I get a call telling me to come look after Amy while Emily goes downtown to answer some questions, the next minute I hear that she's been arrested for murder!"

Bobby made room for her in the row. "They think that she killed another Detective."

"That's insane."

"I know."

"Who's 'they'?"

"My…boss. And the DA."

"Jesus Christ," Michelle ran a hand through her hair, "As if Emily hasn't had enough recently. As if anyone could think she was capable of…I don't understand. How can they think this?"

"Her prints are on a…murder weapon."

"Murder weapon for who?"

"Jenny Patrick. She worked with Paul on the task force."

Michelle looked at him hard. "I know who you are, you know."

"Who I am?"

"You're Amy's father."

He was caught off guard. "I didn't know that you knew."

"I knew. Emily confessed all one drunken night when Amy was a baby. She told me all about you."

His curiosity was piqued. "What did she tell you?"

Michelle's expression softened. "That if you'd known about the baby you would have wanted her to leave Paul. That you loved her." She paused, "That despite everything, that she loved you."

Bobby couldn't help but be surprised at Michelle's last sentence. Emily's behaviour during their brief affair had certainly not borne the hallmarks of love. He was about to question her further when the court officer read out Emily's name.

"Docket number 6574. People versus Emily Vanessa Roscoe. Charge is murder in the second degree."

He watched as Emily was led into the court in handcuffs. He saw her search the court and when her gaze rested on him, she gave him a look so full of fear that he had to physically hold onto the seat to stop himself from going to her.

"Oh my God," he heard Michelle gasp, "Oh God…"

"How do you plead Ms Roscoe?" Judge Ruby Carlisle asked, slightly bored by now having had a number of defendants paraded in front of her.

"Not guilty," Emily replied, her voice shaking slightly.

"People on bail?"

Bobby looked over at ADA Laura Penrose. She was new to the DA's office. A rookie. He had tried talking to her before court had begun but she was so new to the game that she had refused to speak to him in case it compromised her integrity.

"Uh…the charge is murder in the second degree Your Honour. Given the nature of the crime, the…uh…the people ask for remand."

"Remand is absurd, Your Honour," Emily's lawyer replied smoothly. James O'Malley was fifty and an experienced trial lawyer. After Emily had asked for a lawyer, Bobby had pulled every string he could to get Grady on the case. "Mrs Roscoe recently lost her husband, Detective Paul Roscoe. She has a four year old daughter who needs her mother. Mrs Roscoe is a former NYPD detective and has no previous convictions. To remand her would be an injustice."

Judge Carlisle looked to Laura Penrose. "I'm inclined to agree Ms Penrose." Clearly having nothing further to say, Laura Penrose blushed. "Bail is set at fifty thousand dollars. Cash or bond." She banged her gavel. "Next case."

"What does that mean?" Michelle asked, turning to Bobby.

"It means she gets out," he replied.

"If she can find fifty grand," Alex added. "Not to mention enough to pay the mouthpiece she hired." She looked at her partner. "How did O'Malley catch this case?" Bobby didn't reply. "I take it you're paying for this."

Bobby got to his feet but refused to meet her gaze. "Does it matter?"

"Not if she's innocent."

"You said you believed her."

"I do," Alex replied, watching as Michelle hurried away, her phone clamped to her ear. "But if you're doing this in the hope that once this is all over she's going to come running into your arms…"

"I'm not," Bobby replied. "I know the score. I accept it."

"And that's enough for you?" she looked at him disbelievingly. "The occasional tumble in the hay? Never being a proper part of her life? Or Amy's?" She shook her head. "You can't build a life on just sex."

He looked at her. "That sounds like a line from a bad movie."

She raised her eyebrows at him, "Isn't that what this is?"


	16. Release and Reunion

**Rindy713 thanks for the tip on bail bonds. Being from the UK (where bail is free) I don't know anything about US bail (except what I learn from Dog the Bounty Hunter!) Hope you're all still enjoying the story!**

**New York City**

**August 2005**

"Are you ok?" Emily stepped out from the cell area into the hallway and came face to face with her sister. She sighed heavily and Michelle immediately wrapped her in a hug. "Jeez Em…what the hell is going on?"

"You tell me," Emily replied. She pulled back from her sister. "A couple of weeks ago I was a cop's widow. Now I'm a suspected murderer. I feel exhausted. How's Amy?"

"I left her with Ben. She's fine. I told her that you had an important meeting to go to."

"An important meeting with a judge."

"I spoke to Bobby," Michelle said. "He said that they think you killed someone on the task force with Paul?"

"Please," Emily said, rubbing her eyes, "I don't want to talk about it. I've spent since about six this morning going over and over everything in my head. I need to go home. I need to sleep…"

"Ok," Michelle said, "I'll take you home." She put her arm around her sister's shoulders and started steering her towards the elevator.

"Thank you," Emily said, "for putting up the bail. I don't even want to think about where you managed to get five grand…"

Michelle stopped walking and turned to face her, "I…I didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there was no way that Ben and I could come up with that in such a short space of time."

"Then who did?"

Michelle inclined her head over Emily's shoulder, "I think you'll find he did."

Emily turned and saw Bobby standing awkwardly a few feet away. "Oh God…"she said softly.

"Do you want me to…?"

"No, stay here," Emily said, "I still need a ride." She walked over to where he was standing. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I saw you in court. Thank you. For being there."

"You're welcome."

"And…thank you for putting up the bail deposit," she looked down at her hands, "You didn't have to do that. I'll pay you back."

"Forget it."

"No," she looked him in the eye, "no, I won't forget it. Bobby, it's five grand!"

"I know but…well…think of it as back payment."

"For what, services rendered?" The words came out harsher than she had expected. "I didn't mean…"

"I know," but she could tell by his face that he was hurt. "I meant for child support."

"We've been through this. I don't want…"

"Just take it, Emily, please. I don't want to see you in jail."

She sighed, "Ok. Thank you." She paused, "I take it you paid for my lawyer too? James O'Malley? He must cost a fortune."

"It's ok…"

"No. Stop." She held up her hand. "I can accept the bail money with grace but…I can't let you pay for my lawyer too, Bobby, it's not fair. You have your own life. You have your mother…"

"You're the mother of my daughter…"

"Back to Amy again." She shook her head. "You don't see _me _Bobby, you only see her. I'm not saying that's a bad thing but…" she ducked her head, "I have to go."

He took her arm to stop her from going, "I can give you a ride."

"It's ok," Emily replied, "Michelle can take me home. But thank you for the offer."

He made one last desperate attempt, "Can I come over later?"

"I don't think that would be a very good idea," she replied, "besides, Amy's not there." With that, she walked back over to where Michelle was waiting.

"You ok?" her sister asked.

"Yeah, let's just go." They got into the elevator and pressed for the ground floor, Emily keeping her eyes firmly fixed on a spot on the wall so that she wouldn't have to look at him. "Shit," she said, as they reached the main entrance.

"What?"

"My car's in the garage at 1PP."

"Ok, I'll drop you there."

"Damn!" Emily exclaimed as they reached Michelle's car.

"What now?"

"I need to stop at a pharmacy on the way."

"What for?"

Emily looked embarrassed. "The morning after pill."

**Carmel Ridge**

**August 2005**

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" Bobby turned from where he had been looking out of the window and saw his mother looking at him curiously from the couch. "You've been in a mood ever since you got here. Honestly, I don't know why you bother coming to see me if you're just going to stand at the window like some sort of inanimate object."

A small smile played at the corner of Bobby's mouth. "Sorry." He came back from the window and sat on the other edge of the couch. It was late in the day and after Emily's brush off at court he had decided to pay his mother an unscheduled visit.

"So…" Frances Goren observed her son, "Who is she?"

Bobby was momentarily caught off guard. "She?"

"It's that woman partner of yours, isn't it?"

"No."

"You can't fool a mother you know." She wagged her finger in his face. "I know I'm supposed to be crazy but I know when my boys have got girls on the brain. It's like I was saying to Frank…"

"Frank was here?" Bobby seized on this nugget of information.

"Sure. A couple of days ago. He's such a good boy," Frances sighed, "and he looked so handsome!"

A fist of anger punched Bobby in the gut at his mother's clear expression of favouritism. Wasn't it Bobby who visited every weekend and called every other day? Frank…Frank spent most of his time gambling and…he stopped his brain right there. He had too many things to worry about right now without adding Frank to the mix.

"Are you listening to me?" Frances demanded.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, when am I going to meet her?"

"It's not…there's nothing going on between me and Eames."

"Eames? That's not her first name, is it? What is she? German?"

"She's…she's my partner and…there's nothing going on…" he paused, wondering if he should mention Emily. Wondering if he should tell his mother that she had a granddaughter…

"You need someone to look after you, Bobby," Frances said, "I don't think you take care of yourself properly. You've got stubble…you look exhausted…"

"I'm fine."

"Hmm…I don't believe you." She glanced at the photograph of her sons that sat on the sideboard.

"Mom…" he started slowly. "When did you…I mean…how did you know that Dad…" he coughed to cover his embarrassment, "…that Dad was the…you know…the one."

"Huh!" Frances scoffed, "You mean, when did I realise he was the one who would lie, cheat and then run away?"

"You must have been in love with him once."

"Once is about right."

"Mom…"

"All right, all right!" She flapped her hands at him, "Honestly, you beat me down like I'm some kind of suspect in a police station…" She sighed. "Your father was…very handsome. Quite a catch in our neighbourhood." She smiled at the memory. "All the girls had a thing for him. If only they'd known…"

"Forget it…" Bobby said, getting to his feet.

"No, no, no, you wanted the story so I'm going to tell you!" Frances glared at him, "but don't expect me to sugar coat it Bobby because I won't!" She took a deep breath. "There was a pizza parlour – Frankie's. Me and the girls would hang out there on a Friday and Saturday night, hoping that your father would come in. Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn't, but this one night…this one night he came in and he came right over to me and he said, 'You're Frances Melman, right?' And I said, 'who wants to know, smart-ass?'"

Bobby smiled, "You didn't say that."

"I assure you I did. Next thing I know we're walking round the neighbourhood talking for hours on end. And from that day on, we were together."

"But…there must have come a time…when you knew that…that you loved him."

"I don't remember that," Frances replied. "Correction – I don't _want _to remember that. When I think of what we became…" she shook her head. "I'm more interested in who you're planning to have take care of you when I'm not here to do it any longer."

"I'll be ok." He didn't want to ask her when she actually thought she actually took care of him.

"Aren't there any nice girls out there that you like?" she asked him, almost pleadingly. "Am I not going to see a wedding before I leave this earth? Or a grandchild?" Bobby felt his heart catch in his throat. "Well?"

"Mom, there's…there's something that…that I want to tell you…"

**Brooklyn**

**August 2005**

Emily pulled her car to a halt in the driveway, cut the engine and then sat looking out of the windscreen for the longest time. Her head was buzzing with everything that had taken place over the last twelve hours. From waking in Bobby's arms, to being arrested, interrogated and arraigned, not to mention having to listen to Michelle having the mother of all go's at her all the way to the nearest pharmacy about how stupid she had been. Emily didn't need anyone to tell her that. She thought about the pills in her handbag and felt, once more, like a teenager who had been on heat.

She got out of the car and locked the door, secretly grateful that Michelle had agreed to keep Amy for the night. As much as she loved her daughter, Emily felt she needed just a little peace. Just for one night. As she made her way up the steps to the front door, she heard a car door close behind her and, turning, she saw a woman walking towards her from a car parked a little further down from her driveway. She watched as the woman reached the drive and then started to walk up it towards her. Suddenly, Emily felt her heart start to pound in her chest with fear. Every stranger she passed right now made her feel afraid.

"Excuse me," the woman said. "You're Emily Roscoe?" Emily couldn't speak, so she merely nodded her head. "I'm Diane Mayer. Charlie's sister? I came by earlier…"

"I was…out…" Emily said, finding her voice but reluctant to reveal where she really had been.

"I figured as much." The woman smiled. "I really need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

"Well it's…it's not really a good time right now…"

"Please," Diane stepped closer. "It's about Paul. And Owen Slater. It's important that you hear what I have to say."

Emily nodded, "Ok. I guess that would be fine." She turned back to the front door and slotted her key into the lock. Before she had a chance to turn it, the door swung easily open. She froze in the doorway.

"Do you always leave your door unlocked?" Diane asked from behind her.

"I…" She stepped forward and her feet crunched on glass. Glancing up, she saw that the mirror in the hallway had been smashed and fragments lay on the carpet. The rest of the hallway looked untouched. Nothing was out of place. Slowly, Emily stepped inside.

"I'm not sure…" Diane said from behind her, but Emily kept going. She walked slowly down the hall, passed the closed living room door and towards the kitchen. From inside, she could hear the sound of glass tinkling and cupboard doors being opened and closed. "I'll call the police," Diane hissed.

"No," Emily said, holding up her hand Adrenaline coursed through her, causing her heart to pound harder and louder in her head. The feeling took her back to the old days, when wandering into deserted houses was part of her job. Back then, however, she had had a weapon. Not to mention a partner. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, she saw a man standing at the fridge door. Her heart leapt into her mouth.

He turned and looked at her, "Emily!" Glancing behind her, a smile spread across his face, "And Diane too. Two for one!" He looked back at Emily, "I've been expecting you."


	17. Mystery and Murder

**Hey guys - hope the crime part of the story isn't too difficult to follow. I confuse myself sometimes!!**

**Brooklyn**

**August 2005**

"Can I come in?"

If Michelle was taken aback by Bobby's appearance at her front door, she did well to hide it. Instead, she merely stepped back and allowed him to come inside. Once inside, he realised that the house wasn't so different in layout to Emily's.

"Amy's in bed," she told him, "I'm assuming that's why…"

"No," he shook his head, "well…" he didn't want to give her the impression that he _wouldn't _want to see his daughter, but it wasn't the primary reason for his visit. "I mean, it was you I wanted to talk to."

At that moment, Ben came out of the kitchen and walked forward to stand next to his wife. "Ben," Michelle said, "this is Detective Goren."

"Robert," Bobby shook the other man's hand. Ben glanced at Michelle as if to say '_the _Robert Goren?' "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Ben replied. For a moment, the three of them stood awkwardly in the hallway until Michelle's pointed stare gave her husband the message. "I'll go…I've got some stuff to deal with in the garage."

After he had left, Michelle directed Bobby to the living room. "Please, sit down."

"Thanks." He glanced around the room and noticed that the décor wasn't that different from Emily's.

"Everyone always said we should be twins," Michelle said, as though reading his thoughts. "Bought houses in the same neighbourhood, decorated them the same…"she paused, "actually that's where most of the similarities end."

Bobby laughed, "You're not in law enforcement?"

"Hell no. You wouldn't catch me anywhere near anyone with a weapon. I'm a pharmaceutical rep. Ben's a doctor." She looked at him, "But I'm guessing you didn't come here to talk about my job."

"No."

"Emily?" His expression gave him away, "I heard what she said to you earlier. You have to understand…"

"I do," he cut her off. "I do understand. She's going through a difficult time right now. What with Paul and being arrested and…"

"And having you in her life again." Michelle looked at him pointedly. "You wanted to ask me about what I said in the courtroom. About her loving you?"

"Am I that transparent?"

She nodded, "I'm afraid so. I don't blame you. It must be difficult for you. Finding out about Amy after all these years. She didn't deliberately keep it from you, you know."

"She didn't exactly…seek me out to tell me either."

"No," Michelle conceded, "she didn't. She wanted to but…"

"She wanted to?" Michelle nodded. "Then why didn't she?"

"Bobby…can I call you Bobby? Robert sounds so formal." He nodded. "Bobby, you have to be honest and admit that you really know very little about my sister. You knew her for all of, what, three months? You slept with her once…it wasn't exactly a meaningful relationship." He wanted to disagree but he didn't. "By the same token, Emily knew practically nothing about you. You expected her to leave her husband for you?"

"I…"

"Did you ever actually ask her to?"

"No."

"Did _you _seek _her_ out after the operation was over?" He thought back. Things had been so crazy after that night. The team were jubilant at having caught McLaren. There was no need for there to _be _a team anymore. They had disbanded before his eyes. Before he could turn around, Emily was gone.

"No."

Michelle looked at him. "Why should Emily have done all the running?"

"Because she was…"

"What? The one with most to lose?"

"No…yes…I…" he stood up, not quite sure what he meant. "If she had come to me, then I would have known."

"Known what?"

"Known that she…she wanted me! That it was…final…if I had gone to her…" he closed his eyes briefly, "what would she have said?"

Michelle didn't answer until he had opened them again, "I think you know the answer to that one. Our parents have been married for over forty years. They're staunch Catholics. They…drummed issues of fidelity and marriage into Emily and I before we could spell either word. If they had known what had happened between you_…_"

"They can't…live her life for her!" Bobby butted in, "If she had loved me and knew she was carrying my baby she should have left Paul!"

"Says he who had nothing to lose!" Michelle shot back. "Says he who didn't have other people to consider!" Bobby had no answer for this. "Look, if you want to know the truth…" she paused, "she was considering leaving him at one point."

"She was? When?"

"Around about the same time she confessed to me that you were Amy's father. She and Paul were having a few problems and she convinced herself that by seeking out…you…everything in her life would be better."

"So, what happened?"

"Amy got sick. Meningitis. She was in the hospital for a week and Paul never left her side. Emily realised that…well…that he really cared about them both. She knew she could rely on him. She didn't know if she could rely on you."

"She could have relied on me," he replied, his voice barely audible.

"Really? And she was supposed to know that from a one night stand?" Michelle stood up. "Look, the person you should really be talking to about this is Emily, not me."

"You heard what she said."

"Give her time."

Bobby headed for the living room door. "I told my mother this afternoon. About Emily and Amy. She was going on and on about having a grandchild before she dies."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing," he replied. "She didn't say anything. She didn't believe me."

XXXX

"Oh Jesus."

Emily didn't realise she had spoken out loud until Owen put his head on one side and looked at her comically, "Emily Roscoe. Tut, tut, tut."

"What do you want?"

"Where have you been all day?" he answered her question with a question. "I've been here for hours."

"Here as in, inside my house?"

"I knew you wouldn't mind. And I had a key after all."

"Key?" she stared at him uncomprehendingly, "how did you get a…"

"Paul gave it to me."

Nausea rose in Emily's throat. "When did Paul give you a key? More importantly, why would Paul give you a key?"

"I can't remember and he gave me it so that if anything ever happened to him…"

"Like what? You killing him?"

Owen frowned, "What?"

"You killed him." You could have heard a pin drop in the kitchen.

"That's ridiculous," Owen replied breezily, "tell her Diane."

Up until that moment, Emily had forgotten Diane was there, but turning, she saw the other women still hovering in the doorway. "Don't…don't drag me into this," she said.

"Why would I kill Paul?" Owen demanded, turning his attention back to Emily.

"I don't know. You tell me."

"That spell at the Major Case Squad has obviously impaired your judgement. You're clearly overwrought what with everything that's been happening."

"How do you know about that?"

"Know about what?"

"My arrest."

His eyes widened, "I didn't. Until now. Thanks for telling me." Emily could have kicked herself. "Five years away from the job Em. You've obviously forgotten the little things. What did you get arrested for?"

"Murder." Despite the fact she was answering his questions as if they were having a friendly chat about the weather, Emily couldn't fathom precisely what was happening.

Owen stepped forward, "Whose murder?" She didn't respond. "I said, whose murder?"

"Jenny Patrick's," Emily replied, "and don't pretend you don't know about it."

"I don't!"

"It was you, wasn't it? You planted the gun. You led the police right back to me, didn't you? Why Owen? Because you're still holding a grudge?"

"What grudge?"

"From that time at the barbeque? When you came onto me and I told you to get lost?" She was surprised to see a slight blush on his face.

"That was…that was years ago," he coughed, "and I said sorry for that."

"But you never got over it, did you? Never got over the fact that I didn't take one look at you and fall for your devastating charms. So you killed Paul and then you tried to frame me!"

"This is ridiculous!"

"Then how did you know I was at the Major Case Squad today?"

"Because I saw you!" He stepped forward, "I saw you walking in at some god-awful hour with that big lummox of a detective!"

Emily bit back a protective retort for Bobby. "What were you doing there?"

"It doesn't matter," Owen replied, "Look, Emily, I think you've got this wrong…" He took her by the shoulders, "I don't know what you think I've done but…" he froze, his eyes widening. Emily watched him as some form of realisation appeared to dawn on him. "Those crazy bitches."

"What crazy bitches?" she asked, wriggling away from him, "Who are you talking about?" But he was no longer looking at her. He was looking past her. Past her to where Diane was still standing. "It was Charlie, wasn't it? Charlie and that…psycho Lisa…" Before he had a chance to go any further, Diane bolted. Emily watched, like a scene unfolding in a movie, as the other woman ran for the stairs, Owen in hot pursuit. It was as if her feet were moulded to the ground. She heard them running, heard Owen yelling and Diane screaming. Then, it was as if the world came rushing back at her and she ran after them.

Pounding up the stairs, she could hear their voices coming from the spare bedroom. The door was closed and she pushed it open, her eye not falling first on the scene in front of her, but on the unmade bed.

Diane was backed against the far wall, Owen in front of her. He was screaming so furiously that Emily couldn't make out what he was saying and Diane was yelling back at him. "Get off her!" Emily raced forward and grabbed Owen's arm, dragging him backwards. He shook her off easily and advanced again on Diane. Emily went for a second go, but this time, Owen grabbed her by the arm and pushed her back so forcefully that she stumbled and crashed onto the ground, twisting her knee in the process.

"You stupid, fucking bitches!" Owen was yelling, "What the hell did you do that for?"

"You're crazy!" Diane was screaming back. "Get away from me!" She tried to dodge past him, but Owen grabbed her and slammed her back against the wall, causing a picture to fall and smash on the floor. "You bastard! Get off me!"

Pain shot through Emily as she tried to get to her feet but in the same instance, Diane managed to get past Owen and made a run for the door. Owen leapt after her, bringing her down in a rugby tackle and tripping over Emily in the process.

"No!" Diane screamed as Owen got her on her back.

"You're dead!" He screamed at her, "I'll kill you for this! And her!"

Emily cast around wildly for some form of weapon. In the far corner of the room there was a hideous wooden statue that Paul's parents had given them as an anniversary gift. It was shaped like an elephant and weighed a tonne. Dragging herself across the room, Emily grabbed it and in one, quick movement, brought it down on Owen's head. He pitched forward onto Diane and lay still.

For a moment, there was silence. Emily stood, the statue still above her head, watching as blood started to trickle from Owen's head. "Oh shit," she whispered, "Oh holy shit."

Diane pushed Owen off of her and rolled over onto her feet. She stood beside Emily, who lowered the statue, and looked down to where Owen was lying. "Thanks," she said breathlessly.

"I thought…" Emily replied, "I thought he was going to kill you."

"I know," Diane crouched down next to Owen and felt for a pulse. "Damn it!"

"What?" Emily demanded, "Oh Jesus, please don't say he's dead. Please don't say I've killed him!"

Diane straightened back up and looked at her, "You haven't killed him."

Relief flooded through Emily, "Oh thank God…thank God…I thought…" she let Diane take the statue from her. Before she could say anything further, Diane brought it down, hard, on Owen's head.

"I just have."

**New York City**

**August 2005**

Bobby was sitting watching TV when the phone rang. Actually, if he was being honest, he wasn't watching it so much as letting the images roll past his eyes without his brain registering what they were trying to convey. The phone was a welcome distraction. He hoped it was Emily. It was Alex.

"Hey," she greeted him. "I didn't think I'd get you at home. I figured you'd be…"

"Well I'm not," he replied.

"Ok," she took a deep breath. "I was talking with Ross this afternoon."

"Yeah?"

"Needless to say he wasn't too happy about us disappearing off to court."

"I don't care what he thinks right now, Eames. Anyway, I'm off the case. What does it matter what I do with my time?"

She didn't take him up on that. "So, we were talking about the evidence and we agreed that something doesn't fit."

"Just one thing? This whole case doesn't fit."

"Are you going to let me talk or are you just going to throw everything I say back at me? It's not my fault Emily's been dragged into this."

Bobby knew she was right. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"The ME said that Jenny Patrick was killed five to six hours before we found her, right?"

"Right."

"So, five to six hours before we found her, you were with Emily at her place, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"So she couldn't have done it."

If he hadn't felt so stupid for not realising this totally obvious fact earlier, Bobby would have punched the air with joy. "No, she couldn't have done it." He paused. "It still doesn't explain her prints on the murder weapon."

"It's like she said: she touched the gun at some point when Paul Roscoe had it in the house. Whoever killed him, took it from him."

"But they'd have to be psychic to know that Emily's prints were on it."

"_If _they intentionally wanted to frame her."

"How do you mean?"

"How could they _possibly _know her prints would be on the gun? They couldn't. They never intended to set her up."

"But…what other motive would there be for using Roscoe's gun?"

"To set _Roscoe _up."

Bobby knew he was tired from the events of the last few days and knew he needed sleep, but he knew he had heard Alex right. "Eames…Paul Roscoe died long before Jenny Patrick did."

"How can you be so sure?" Alex left this question hanging in the air.

"How does any of this lead back to Gabrielle Lewis?" Bobby asked.

"Hang on, I'm getting another call." She put him on hold and Bobby sat listening to silence, his mind whirring. What on earth was she talking about? Of course Paul Roscoe was dead. He had to be…After a few moments, she came back. "That was the Captain. There's been an incident at Emily's house."

Bobby sat bolt upright, "What do you mean, an incident?"

"Neighbours called in a disturbance and when the squad cars got there…they found Owen Slater's body."

Bobby felt as though the floor was shifting under him. "Emily…what about Emily?"

"She wasn't there. No-one knows where she is."


	18. Abduction and Answers

**Sorry for the delay :)**

**Brooklyn**

**August 2005**

By the time he reached Emily's house, Bobby had left what seemed like a million messages on her cell phone. The phone had gone to voicemail every time he called, but it didn't stop him trying. Part of him thought that if she was somewhere where she could see or hear her phone but couldn't get to it then it should at least comfort her to know he was trying to reach her. When he pulled up outside the house, it was a host of activity; squad cars, coroner's van and obligatory gawking bystanders.

He got out of the car and, flashing his badge, made his way under the crime scene tape and up the steps to the house. As he approached the front door, Ross appeared.

"Detective," he greeted him sombrely, "Mrs Roscoe's not inside."

"I know," he replied.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"She's missing."

"More like on the run."

Bobby regarded his boss in surprise, "What?"

"Well it's a little too convenient that Detective Slater ends up dead in Mrs Roscoe house and she mysteriously vanishes." Ross put his head on one side and gave Bobby that 'knowing' look.

"You know she didn't kill Jenny Patrick."

"I admit we should have looked a little closer at the time line for that one but here…" he trailed off as a CSU tech came out of the front door holding a bagged wooden statue. "The murder weapon. In all likelihood, we'll find Mrs Roscoe's prints on it."

"That doesn't mean anything." Bobby made to push past his boss into the house but Ross stopped him. "You're not working this case, Detective. You've no reason to be here."

"She's my…" he stopped. He didn't really know what she was.

Ross saw his obvious difficulty. "I know this is hard, Goren, but you have to accept…"

"What?" Bobby glared at him, "accept what?"

Before Ross could answer, Alex came up behind him. "The spare bedroom's been trashed. Looks like there was a serious fight in there. The rest of the house is untouched." She looked over his shoulder at Bobby. "The only blood we found looks as if it came from Slater."

Bobby let out a shuddering breath. "Is there any indication as to what happened to Emily?"

"Goren, go home," Ross said before Alex could reply, "You don't need to be here."

"I want to be here."

"Well, we don't need you here." Ross broke off as his cell phone started to ring, "It's the Chief of Detectives. Needless to say I'm not looking forward to taking this call." He walked away down the path.

"The Captain's right, Bobby," Alex said, "You should go home."

He shook his head stubbornly, "There must be something I can do."

"Not here," she replied. "What about Emily? Where would she go?"

"She wouldn't go anywhere without Amy," he replied, not wanting to admit to his partner that if Emily was scared enough to run, he had no clue where she would run to.

"Maybe she's contacted Michelle. We haven't yet. Go round there, see if Michelle knows anything. Keep me in the loop and I'll keep Ross off your back."

"Eames…"

"Just go, before I change my mind."

With that, Bobby turned and hurried back to the car. He drove as fast as he could the few miles to Michelle's house. The lights were still on and as he pulled into the driveway, he saw Michelle at the window. By the time he got out of the car, she was at the door.

"Something's wrong," she said before he could open his mouth, "something's happened, hasn't it?"

XXXX

Emily didn't know how long they had been travelling. All she knew was that they were definitely travelling. The constant jarring and bumping gave that away. She also knew that, no matter how loudly she screamed, no-one would hear her.

After Diane had killed Owen, and that fact alone had taken Emily longer than the ten seconds she had had before Diane turned on her to digest, things had moved so quickly that she wasn't sure she could process them. Diane had been like a woman possessed – grabbing her and pulling her to the floor, hitting her so hard that she thought she was about to be the other woman's next victim. She had fought back as best she could but had, admittedly, almost been ready to accept death. Then she must have blacked out because the next thing she knew she had woken up in the trunk of a car, wrists and ankles bound and tape over her mouth.

She had done everything a good detective would do, everything the heroine does in the movies. She had tried to find something in the trunk to help her, had tried to loosen her bonds, tried to kick to attract attention, but nothing had worked and she had only succeeded in exhausting herself to the point where tears of frustration poured down her face.

She thought about Amy…her baby…hoped that she was tucked up in bed at Michelle's. Hoped that she was dreaming sweet dreams of fantasy lands and Father Christmas, well away from the horror her mother appeared to be living. She thought about Paul…her husband…hoped that he was looking down on her and doing something in the spirit world to get her out of this mess. And she thought about Bobby…her…well…lover? She wished she could turn back time, only a day, so that she could still be lying in his arms.

The car suddenly jolted violently and continued to do so, as if they were travelling down a rutted road. Her body bashed painfully against the floor and sides of the trunk, her head smacking against the wheel arch. Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. The car slowed and came to a halt, its brakes squeaking slightly.

A door opened, and Emily felt her breath catch in her throat. This could be the moment where it really did all end. Her heart was pounding in her chest, so loud and strong that it was almost painful. Footsteps crunched to the back of the car and she heard the sound of the trunk being lifted. A bright light was shone inside, blinding her. She scrunched up her eyes and turned her head away.

"Oh holy shit." The voice was female and not Diane's. Emily turned and squinting her eyes against the light made out the facial features of Charlie Mayer. "Shit Diane," Charlie repeated. "What in God's name have you done?"

XXXX

"Do you really think they might come here?" Ben was standing in the doorway to the spare bedroom watching as Bobby checked the window locks. "I mean, do you really think whoever took Emily might try and come for Amy too?"

Bobby turned and looked at him. A doctor. A man who saved lives. Someone not used to this sort of terror. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "Better safe than sorry."

Michelle appeared in the doorway behind her husband. "I don't think we should wake her," she said, nervously wringing her hands, "What would be the point? Besides, what would we tell her?" Bobby didn't have an answer. How do you tell a four year old that her mother's been abducted? "Do you really think someone kidnapped Emily?"

"Yes."

"But your boss doesn't?"

Bobby shook his head. "He thinks Emily killed Owen Slater."

"But why?" Michelle asked. "Why would she?"

"Because I told her…I told her that Slater might have killed Paul."

Michelle's eyes widened and she looked at her husband. "Oh my God. But…Emily would never…I mean she couldn't…"

"I know."

"I mean, I know she's a cop but…"

"Michelle." Bobby brought her up short. "She didn't do this. I know she didn't. Just like I knew that she didn't kill Jenny Patrick."

Michelle sat down on the bed. "This is like a nightmare."

"What can we do?" Ben asked.

"We'll have a unit parked outside," Bobby replied, "but all you can do is…well…wait. And, of course, look after Amy."

"You're going to find her, aren't you?" Michelle said, looking up at him. "I mean, you'll find where they've taken her, won't you Bobby?"

He nodded confidently, despite his own fears. "Yes I will."

"Maybe you should call your parents," Ben said to his wife.

"No," Bobby intervened, "the less people that know about this, the better."

"But it'll be all over the news," Michelle replied. "I can't have them finding out that way. It's not right."

Bobby paused and then relented, "Ok, but only your parents."

"Oh please," Michelle got to her feet, "I'm hardly going to call Dominic Dunne, am I?" With that, she left the room.

"She's upset," Ben said, "we all are. The last few weeks…well Michelle's right. It's been like a nightmare. Paul getting killed and then this…"

Bobby decided to try a different tactic, "How well did you and Paul get along?"

Ben looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well…he was…"

"He was what?"

"Your typical cop. No offence. Macho, confident, that kind of thing. We never really had much in common. He thought I was some snob from the Upper West Side. He used to crack jokes about my having been to Harvard. I think he was insecure about his own background."

"Why?"

"Paul's parents never had much money. He left high school with no qualifications and joined the police force. He had a big chip on his shoulder and it…well…it made for some awkward family dinners."

"Michelle? Her parents?"

"They tolerated him for Emily's sake. But I don't think he was the brother or son-in-law they would have chosen for her. I think they thought she could do better."

"But Emily loved him."

"Completely. She was devoted to him. Privately, I always thought that she latched on to him because she was afraid she would never find someone else. She was twenty-eight when they met and considered herself on the shelf. Ridiculous, I know." Ben shook his head. "But anytime anyone ever said anything about Paul, Emily would fly off the handle. She didn't speak to her mother right up until just before the wedding because Caroline, Emily's mom, told Emily she thought she was making a mistake. But, you couldn't tell Emily that."

"But they fought a lot, didn't they? Emily and Paul?"

Ben paused, "Look, Michelle has no secrets from me. I know you're Amy's biological father. If you're wanting me to give you a character assassination of Paul…"

"No," Bobby broke in, although deep down he wasn't sorry to hear about the other man's faults. "It might be of assistance in the investigation. And, it might help find Emily."

Ben let out a long breath, "Yes, they fought. Paul had a temper and so did Emily. I don't think we ever got through a Christmas or Thanksgiving without something setting them off. But they always made up in the end."

"Did you ever get the impression that…well…that Paul might be…somewhat less than honest?"

"Are you asking me if he was a dirty cop?" Bobby didn't reply. "I don't know." Ben got to his feet. "But I wouldn't be surprised."

XXXX

"Next door neighbour saw Emily go into the house with another woman shortly before seven. Tall, medium build, long dark hair."

"Could be Jennifer Lopez," Ross replied, "Not exactly much to go on."

"But get this," Alex said, "the neighbour also saw a man at the front door a few hours before that using a key to get in. He was in his forties, blond hair…"

"Owen Wilson?"

"More like Slater."

"Ok," Ross nodded slowly, "So Slater came by the house before Emily was home."

"Not only that, but he had a key."

"Maybe Emily gave him one."

"Why would she? He might have killed her husband."

"Maybe she gave him the key before your partner decided to tell her that. Maybe she got home, confronted him about it and killed him."

"And what about our mystery woman?"

"Maybe Emily killed her and buried in the back yard."

"Captain…"

"Eames, you're not giving me anything here."

"All right. Say the mystery woman killed Slater and abducted Emily."

"Why would she do that?"

"I don't know, but…"

"Captain!" Another detective hurried up to them. "We've done the canvas. All the cars in the street check out except for this one. A 1976 Buick. Neighbours say that the woman who came to the house with Mrs Roscoe was driving it. A couple of hours later, she looked out again and it was gone."

"Did you run the plates?"

"Yup," the Detective looked down at his pad. "Belongs to a Diane Mayer. Baltimore address."

"Charlie Mayer's sister," Alex said. "She came to see Emily."

"What's the connection?"

"Charlie used to date Emily's husband. "Maybe there's something going on in the background there."

"Run Diane and see if she has any priors. Get officers up to her home in Baltimore. What about Charlie?"

"Diane said she went into hiding shortly after Paul Roscoe died."

"Check ATM, bank records, credit cards, everything. See if we can catch a trail." Ross looked around, "Where did your partner go?"

"I told him to go and see Amy."

"Good, "Ross replied, "let's hope he stays there."


	19. Kidnap and Killers

**Enjoy :)**

**Brooklyn**

**August 2005**

Bobby was standing at the doorway of the spare bedroom watching Amy sleep when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Taking it out he saw Eames' name flashing up on the screen and stepping back, he answered it. "Goren."

"Diane Mayer's car was spotted outside Emily's house," Alex said, not bothering with niceties. She seemed to instinctively know that he wouldn't want to waste time. "She was seen going into the house with Emily. Not long after is when the neighbour heard all the noise. No-one saw either of them leave."

Bobby digested this. "What would Diane want with Emily?"

"I don't know, but we also ran a trace on Emily's cell phone. Whoever took her left it switched on. It hit a number of cell sites heading up towards Baltimore before the battery died."

Bobby started to make his way downstairs. "That's where Diane must have taken her."

"Taking her to her own home's a bit obvious."

"Maybe she was meeting Charlie. Maybe she knew all along where her sister was hiding." He paused. "What you were saying earlier. About the Jenny Patrick shooting being a set-up for Paul Roscoe?"

"Yeah, I haven't figured that one out yet and Ross seems to be back on the 'Emily is guilty as sin' bandwagon. Last I heard he was on the phone to the DA."

Bobby chose to ignore this. Finding Emily was more important right now than the consequences. "Was an autopsy done on Roscoe's body?"

"I don't know. I'll make a call and find out." She paused. "Ross wants you to stay put at Michelle's." Bobby didn't respond. "So I guess I'll see you in Baltimore."

"Diane's place is the best starting point."

"Ok. Drive safely, Bobby. You won't be any good to Emily if you get yourself killed in a pile up."

Bobby smiled into the phone. "I won't. But thanks for caring Eames." He closed his phone and walked into the living room where Michelle and Ben were sitting. "We think that Emily's been taken to Baltimore."

"By who?" Michelle asked.

"Diane Mayer. She's the sister of…"

"Charlie Mayer," Michelle interrupted. "I know. Emily mentioned it to me on the way home from court." She shook her head, "Why would either of them want to hurt her?"

"We haven't figured that out yet, but I'm going to head on up there." He paused, wondering if he should reveal what he and Alex were thinking about Paul. "When Paul died…did Emily identify his body?"

"No," Ben shook his head, "They thought it would be too traumatic for her. One of his colleagues did it."

"Who?"

"Owen Slater."

"Was an autopsy done?"

"Why are you asking this?" Michelle asked.

"It's just something we're looking into," Bobby replied. "I have to go. I'll call if I've got any news."

"Bobby?" he turned back. Michelle was on her feet, looking scared. "You're going to bring her back, aren't you? I mean…"

"Yes," he told her with more confidence than he felt, "I'm going to bring her back."

**Baltimore**

**August 2005**

Hands reached into the trunk and pulled Emily out, dumping her unceremoniously on the ground. She cried out in pain as she was then hauled back to her feet. She found herself facing Charlie Mayer who ripped the tape from her mouth.

"What the fuck is going on?" Emily demanded.

"I'm sorry about this," Charlie said.

"_You're _sorry? You're _sorry?_" It wasn't quite the sentiment that she was looking for. "Your sister…murdered someone in _my _house and then knocked me out, bundled me into the trunk of her car and drove me God knows where and you're _sorry?_"

"Murdered?" Charlie's eyes grew wide. "Who…?"

"Owen. As if you didn't know. The two of you have probably been in this together from the _fucking_ beginning."

Charlie rounded on Diane who was standing behind her. "You killed Owen?"

"It seemed like the best thing to do at the time," Diane replied.

"That wasn't part of the plan, Diane!"

"Plan?" Emily asked, "What plan?"

"Exactly, Charlie! What _fucking_ plan?" Diane yelled at her sister. "This has been a _disaster _from start to fucking finish! And I've gone along with it all like an _idiot!_"

Emily stood watching, trying to loosen the tape that was binding her wrists, wondering if there was any chance she could make a bolt for it.

"Shut up!" Charlie turned back to Emily. "Look, it was never supposed to be like this. Neither of us wanted it to be like this."

"Oh really? Well your psycho sister could have fooled me!"

"I wasn't talking about her," Charlie replied quietly.

Emily looked at her, "Then who were you talking about?"

Before Charlie could answer, Diane rushed forward and grabbed Emily by the shoulder. "Unless you want us to be seen out here…" she bent and ripped the tape from Emily's ankles. "I didn't go through all this for the two of you just to get myself caught!" Emily was about to question her when she found herself being propelled forwards in the darkness. It was only now that she had a chance to look at her surroundings and realized that she was outside what looked like a deserted warehouse. "Where…?" she suddenly tripped and fell forwards, cracking the front of her head on the ground. Dazed, she felt herself being hauled back to her feet and half-carried, half-pushed, inside the warehouse before being roughly pushed into a corner.

"Everything I've done," she heard Diane say, "I've done for the two of you and I don't even get a _fucking _thank you!"

"I didn't ask you to kill Owen! I didn't ask you to kidnap her! If anything, you've probably made things ten times worse!"

"Oh really? And how do you figure that one out?"

"Do you really think he's going to be happy when he sees her here? Jesus Diane…what in God's name…"

"Would you rather I'd killed her too?"

Emily fought for her voice through the darkness threatening to engulf her, "Charlie?"

"Of course not! I wish you'd never gotten involved in this!"

"It was you that got me involved in the first place!"

Emily tried again, "Charlie…" but her voice sounded thick and before she could say anymore, she passed out.

XXXX

Bobby pounded on the door of Diane's house for a good five minutes before finally admitting that quite clearly she wasn't at home. He stepped back and surveyed the house from the bottom of the steps. In contrast to the other houses in the street, it was in total darkness. He could see lights burning at the neighbours' house and so made his way over there to see if the neighbours knew where she was. The name on the door was Hanson and an old woman in a dressing gown answered the door.

"Yes?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm Detective Goren, ma'am, NYPD." He held up his badge for her to squint at. "I'm looking for Diane Mayer. Have you seen her recently?"

"Not since this morning. She drove off around eleven. She hasn't been back since."

"Did you happen to speak to her? Perhaps she mentioned where she was going?"

"Young man…" Mrs Hanson drew herself up, "I don't go around sticking my nose in people's business where it's not wanted. Besides…" she glanced around, "I try not to speak to Diane if I can avoid it."

"Why not?"

"Well…you know…all that time…inside…I mean it changes a person, doesn't it? You must see that in your job."

Bobby was confused, "Inside? You mean in jail?"

"No, no, no," Mrs Hanson waved her hand dismissively, "In Kelling. Upstate."

"The psychiatric facility?"

"Yes. Diane was in there for most of her adult life."

This was all news to Bobby. "How long have you known Diane?"

Mrs Hanson folded her arms and leant against her doorframe, as if settling in for a long chat. "Ever since the girls were little. They moved here in…oh…must have been 1978. Diane would have been about…eight and Charlotte five."

"And when did Diane go into Kelling?"

"She was sixteen. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. She hadn't been right for some time. Catherine, her poor mother, was at her wits end. The father, if you could call him that, had left them not long after they moved here. Diane went completely off the rails. She would play truant from school, got involved in minor scuffles with the police…all sorts. Then when she was about…eleven…I heard that she had been diagnosed with…oh what do you call it…one of those diseases that affects the brain…"

"Schizophrenia?"

"Something like that. Anyway, her behaviour got worse and worse over the next few years until one night, the school down the road was burnt down. Two squatters were killed. Diane confessed to it and before you could say 'Here's Johnny' she was taken away to Kelling."

"And when did she come back?"

"Well…Charlotte had already moved to New York so it must have been…oh…seven, eight years ago now. By that time their mother had died and Diane was staying in the house by herself. To be honest I wasn't too happy about it, but there's never been any trouble."

"But you said that you try not to speak to her."

Mrs Hanson leant forward, "It's the eyes. There's just…nothing there."

"What about Charlotte? When's the last time you saw her?"

"Oh…before the 4th July. She was here with her son. Lovely little boy he is. Spitting image of his mother."

"Mrs Hanson…is there anywhere that you know that Diane would go if she needed somewhere to…to hide?"

"Hide? What would she need to hide for?"

Bobby avoided the question. "Anywhere nearby that perhaps she would feel safe?"

The older woman thought. "Well…there's the old warehouses out by the industrial estate. Catherine used to work for a linen company that had its factory out that way. Diane and Charlotte used to go and spend time there during the holidays when their mother couldn't afford childcare. That was before all Diane's…troubles of course."

Bobby backed down the steps, taking his phone out of his pocket as he did so. "Thank you, ma'am, I appreciate all your help."

"What's it about?" Mrs Hanson called after him, but he was already back at the car.

"Eames, it's me. I think I might know where Diane's taken Emily."

XXXX

When she came to, Emily's head was pounding but she managed to pull herself into a sitting position and realized she was resting against a wall. Charlie was sitting a few feet in front of her, her head in her hands, sobbing. When she heard movement, she looked up.

"Emily…" she said, "you have to believe me when I say that I never wanted this to turn out like this. I mean…I'm a mother too…"

"I don't…" Emily struggled for full consciousness, "I don't understand what's going on."

"Shit," Charlie half-laughed, "I'm not sure I do either. We never wanted to hurt you."

"We?"

Charlie didn't respond to the obvious question. "I'm sorry about what Diane did to you and to Owen. I thought she had changed. I thought…" she buried her head in her hands again. "My God, maybe asking you for a divorce would have been easier." Emily didn't reply. "I mean…when it started…Gabrielle…he told me that she had to be stopped from telling you. She would have done it too. She might have been a user but she always told the truth. After she sent him that letter…he knew she would go the whole way."

"Letter?" Emily asked. "You mean…the one about Amy…Amy not being Paul's? It is Paul you're talking about, isn't it? When you say 'he?'"

Charlie nodded. "He told me that we had to stop her from telling you. I thought he meant…" she paused, "I really don't know what I thought he meant. But not…not that…" She shook her head. "When Owen told us that he'd done it…"

"Owen…" Emily tried to ignore the pounding in her head. "Owen killed Gabrielle?"

Charlie nodded, "Lisa helped. But then she always was devoted to Owen. She would have done anything to please him. It was pathetic. But then, afterwards, Owen started to have second thoughts about the whole thing, the whole plan, and that's why he killed Jenny."

Her words were swimming around Emily's head. "He had second thoughts about committing one murder so he went out and committed a second?"

"With Paul's gun!"

"I don't...why…?"

"He wanted to set Paul up. That's why he used Paul's gun. He had no way of knowing that your prints would be on it. I told Diane that she should tell you before the police arrested you but…I guess she was too late."

Emily thought back to her time in custody, "Just a little. But why did Diane kill Owen?"

Charlie looked terrified, "Because she's insane! You know about her past, right?" Emily shook her head, "She was in Kelling Psychiatric Facility until she was thirty. It's only been in the last eight years or so that we've become close. I thought she was cured…I thought she was safe…" There was a sudden bang from outside causing both of them to jump. "Shit."

"What is it?" Emily asked.

"I don't know." Charlie got to her feet and listened. "Oh God, I think it's him."

"Who?"

"You should get out of here." Charlie darted forward and tore off the tape around Emily's wrists. "You need to leave, now!" She pulled Emily to her feet, but the latter's balance had been too badly affected by the crack on her head that she couldn't stand. "Jesus, Emily, come on! It's not worth this! Please! He'll flip if he sees you here!"

"But I don't…none of this makes sense…" Emily said, "Owen killed Gabrielle and Jenny…Diane killed Owen…and all because of….of what?"

"What the hell's going on?" A male voice sounded from the far end of the room.

"Emily, please get up!" Charlie's voice was desperate in her ear.

Footsteps brought the voice closer. "Emily?"

Her blood froze in her body. Her heart stopped. Her brain ground to a slow halt. The world suddenly seemed to be moving in slow motion. Sounds appeared to be coming from far away and all she could clearly hear was her own breathing. Slowly, she raised her head and saw a silhouette in front of her. The figure stepped forward again and she felt Charlie's arm gripping her tightly. Nausea rose in her throat and the room started spinning. _It couldn't be…it wasn't possible…_

"Paul?"


	20. The Truth Revealed

**Gosh, I realise it has been almost a year since I last updated this, but something came over me and I knew I had to finish it, even if no-one else was reading it! If you do, please leave a review!!**

_"What did you say your name was, West ?_

_"What did you say _your _name was, Dickwad?_

_He smiled at her and she couldn't help smiling back. He had that effect on her and it helped that he was incredibly cute. Floppy dark hair that pitched forward into his eyes, blue eyes that seemed to take her all in and he was tall. All the good ones were meant to be tall._

_"Sorry," he said, stepping forward and holding out his hand, "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Paul Roscoe."_

_She shook his hand, "Emily West."_

_"Well…" Paul said, looking her up and down, "You're the best looking cop I've seen in a long time. And believe me, I meet a lot of cops."_

_"Oh I believe you," Emily replied, "Are you always this forward?"_

_"I find it helps me out on the job. Knowing what to say and how to get away with saying it is a big plus. Stick with me West and I can maybe teach you a few things…"_

She felt as though she had stepped back all those years. As though she was seeing him for the first time again. The same feelings rushed through her. He was tall and handsome and irresistible looking and yet…yet he was supposed to be dead. Her head…it had to be her head playing tricks on her. He couldn't be standing in front of her, here and now…he just couldn't be.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, once he had found his voice. "Emily, what…?"

With a strangled cry, she stumbled towards him, threw herself into his arms and buried her face in his chest. She clutched him tightly to her, telling herself that he was real, that he was alive. She breathed in his scent, that familiar scent, and felt her stomach turn over.

"Oh God…" she mumbled, "Oh God you're alive…you're alive…" Pulling back, she kissed him fiercely, running her hands over his face, feeling the familiar stubble, running her fingers through his hair. He was _here._ He was _alive…_

Paul pulled back quickly, "What the fuck is she doing here?" His comment was directed over Emily's head and she turned back to look at Charlie.

"It wasn't my idea," the other woman said.

"I don't…I don't understand…" Emily turned back to her husband, "I don't…I buried you…_we _buried you…how can you…?" The enormity of what was in front of her started to hit her and she stepped back out of his embrace. "I don't understand." She looked from Paul to Charlie and back again, "I don't understand…"

"If it wasn't your idea, whose idea was it?" Paul's words were filled with anger and again they were directed at Charlie.

"I had no idea until Diane showed up with her in the trunk!" Charlie shot back. "Do you really think I would have gone along with her if she'd told me what she was going to do?"

"Shit!" Paul swore viciously and kicked the ground before looking back at Emily. "Sweetheart, you were never supposed to find out."

"Find out? Find out what? That you're not dead?" She stepped back from him. "You let me believe…you let Amy believe…that you had been shot by Sanchez. Why? Why would you do that? I don't…"

"So we could leave together," Charlie supplied.

Emily looked at her, "Leave? But…" She thought back to what the other woman had told her. _Maybe asking you for a divorce would have been easier..._ "Oh my God…" the truth hit her. "The two of you…?"

"Emily…" Paul stepped forward.

"Oh my God…you son of a bitch…you and her…"

"You were never meant to get hurt?"

"Never meant to get _hurt?_" she threw his words at him, "Do you think I've had _fun _these last few weeks thinking that you were dead?"

"You tell me," Paul replied, "It doesn't seem to have taken you long to get over me."

"What?"

"I've only been 'dead' a few weeks and already you've filled my bed with that whack-job."

_Bobby. Oh God, Bobby._

"She told you. Gabrielle Lewis told you…about Amy."

"It's not as if she was telling me anything I didn't already know. Did you think I was stupid, Emily?"

"No."

"Pretending that our premature baby was actually being delivered right on time?"

"Why…why didn't you say anything back then?" Emily asked, "Why didn't you…?"

"Because I _loved_ you!" Paul replied, "And I knew that I had been away a lot and I didn't want to lose you. So I forgave you and I looked on Amy as my own and raised her…"

"And then ran out on her?"

"Things were getting too difficult. I knew that if she could tell me about Amy that she would have no qualms about telling you about Sanchez."

Emily felt her insides grow cold. "What about Sanchez?" Paul sighed and shook his head. "You…you were in his pocket?" Paul didn't reply. "Oh God…"

"Don't pretend you didn't know."

"I didn't know!" Emily shouted. "How could I possibly have known?" Everything started to fall into place, just as Charlie had said. "You asked Owen to kill Gabrielle…so she wouldn't tell me?"

Paul nodded slightly, "Only he got a nasty attack of the guilts afterwards. He killed poor Jenny to try and set me up."

"Only the police found my prints and arrested me instead."

He looked at her uncomprehendingly, "What?"

"Oh don't pretend you didn't know!" She threw his words back at him. "I was arrested and interrogated because Major Case thought I killed Jenny with your gun!" Paul looked at Charlie.

"Owen told me Emily's prints were on the gun," Charlie said, "I told Diane she should tell Emily…"

"You stupid bitch," Paul interrupted her. "You stupid, dumb bitch!"

"Don't you yell at me!" Charlie screamed back, "I have done all of this for _us._ For you, me and our son!"

Emily took a breath, "Your _son?_" She looked at Paul, "What…?"

"My son Josh," Charlie supplied, "Paul's his father."

Emily shook her head, "And you have the nerve to have a go at _me _about Amy when all the time you have another child out there? You fucking bastard! You complete fucking bastard!" She made to fly at him, but Paul pulled out a gun and pointed it at her, pausing her in her tracks.

"Jesus, Paul!" Charlie exclaimed. "Don't be so fucking stupid. Let's just get out of here, get Josh and go!"

"Go?" Emily said, "Go where?"

"I'm dead," Paul said, "You never saw me. Me and Charlie and Josh are going to Mexico to get away from…from all of this…" his hand wavered. "You never saw me, Emily. Say it." She stared at him. "Say it!"

"Paul, we should go before Diane gets back," Charlie said, moving closer to him. "She killed Owen, she brought Emily here…she's insane!"

Paul kept looking at Emily, his gun trained on her. "Say it, Emily."

"And what do I tell our daughter, Paul?" she asked. "What do I tell her?"

"What she already knows," he replied, "that I'm dead."

She shook her head, "But you're not."

"I am!" he shouted. "We disappear and you can go back to the whack-job and live happily ever after!"

"No…" she began.

Paul lunged forward, the gun right in her face, "SAY IT!"

"Paul Roscoe!"

Emily jumped at the familiar voice.

"That's who you are, isn't it? Paul Roscoe?" Out of the corner of her eye, Emily saw Bobby emerge from the shadows. His gun was in his hand, but it was down at his side. "It's good to finally meet you. I'm…Robert Goren…"

"I know who you are," Paul replied, moving slightly back from Emily, but keeping his gun trained on her.

"You know I heard…some of your conversation," Bobby said, his eyes on Emily, trying to communicate with her that it was going to be all right. "It's a…a good plan. Fleeing to Mexico with your girl and your son. You get away from the trouble you're in here…and you get away from Sanchez."

"I stay here," Paul said, "I go to jail."

"Yes, yes you do."

Paul looked at Emily again, "I can't go to jail, Em."

"Paul…" she moved towards him, but he raised his gun to her head, stopping her.

Bobby moved slowly over towards them, desperate to get himself between Emily and Roscoe's gun. "So you have a son."

Paul's eyes flickered over to him. "Yeah, so?"

"How long have you known?"

"Six months," he replied. "She kept it from me."

"Paul..." Charlie began.

"Shut up!"

Bobby nodded. "I have a daughter that I only found out about a few weeks ago. It's a big thing, finding out something like that. Knowing…knowing that you have something of yourself in the world."

Paul glared at him, "_I _raised Amy, not you."

"You did," Bobby nodded, "And, from what I've seen of her, both you and Emily did a great job…" he kept moving, slowly. "She's a terrific little girl who…misses her daddy terribly."

"She does?"

Emily nodded. "She was devastated when you died, Paul. You were her daddy…"

"How did you get involved with Sanchez?" Bobby changed tact quickly. "You were investigating him. How did you get dragged in?"

Paul shrugged, "Sanchez is smart. He knew we were onto him. He put the feelers out that if we left him alone, he'd make it worth our while."

"Financially?"

"Yes. We had medical bills still to pay off for Amy. I thought…" he paused. "I thought I was doing something good."

"By getting in league with a major drug dealer?" Emily asked incredulously.

"Shut the fuck up!" Paul said, moving forward again. "I don't know why I bothered seeing as she wasn't even my child!"

Bobby was now beside Emily. "But Gabrielle found out and she threatened to tell Emily and you knew she would after getting the letter." Paul nodded. "So, you had Owen kill her, but then he panicked and killed Jenny to frame you."

"You were never meant to get involved," Paul directed this to Emily. "This whole thing about your prints…" he shook his head, "You were never supposed to be involved. I'm sorry, Em, really I am."

"That's the least you have to be sorry for," she replied angrily.

"But…Diane…" Bobby brought Paul's attention back to him. "You didn't count on what it would mean having her involved."

"She's Charlie's sister," Paul said, "There was no way we could pull this off without her knowing."

"Did you know she had spent time in a psychiatric facility?"

"Charlie told me she was cured." He glared at Charlie.

"You had no idea that she would kill Owen?"

"No," Paul replied. "I was going to do that myself."

"Jesus…" Emily breathed.

"Conspiracy to murder and drug trafficking…" Paul looked helplessly at his wife, "Twenty-five to life, Emily…I can't…I can't do that…"

"It's too late, Paul," Emily said, "even if I could have helped you before, I can't help you now."

"Paul, there are officers surrounding this warehouse," Bobby said, "there is nowhere to go from this so…why don't you put the gun down?" Paul paused. "Come on. You don't want to hurt Emily. You still love her. She's still your wife..."

Paul turned the gun towards Bobby. "You think I'm stupid? There's no-one else here except you. You, here on some quest to get even further into my wife's thong than you already have. I could have left quite easily before you turned up. Emily would have come around. She would have kept her mouth shut. But not you…you won't do that, will you?"

"You're a cop, same as me," Bobby replied, "You know you can't run."

"Maybe I can and maybe I can't," Paul said, "but I do know that I can take revenge."

"Revenge on what?" Emily asked, "Paul…please…"

"I'm sorry, Emily," Paul said, "If this is my last stand why not take someone down with me? What man wouldn't take revenge for his wife having an affair? For his wife bearing another man's child?"

"No…" Emily said, "no, Paul, you don't have to do anything. We can fix this. We can fix it. I'll…I'll get you the best lawyers, I'll…"

He shook his head, "Sorry. I can't."

"Paul…"

But before she could finish, Paul fired.


	21. Lovers or Losers

**Thanks for the reviews :)**

**Ten days later**

Emily Roscoe.

She signed her name at the bottom of the statement and stared at it for a long moment, wondering if she would ever feel the same way about it again. The letters seemed to mock her, just as Paul had mocked her, just like everyone had mocked her. The name in which she had been so secure, now felt so alien.

Finally, she slid it back across the desk to Ross who glanced at it. "We took statements from Charlie Mayer and Lisa Henderson and from Paul indicating that you had no involvement in, or knowledge of, the murder of Jenny Patrick. No further action will be taken against you by the DA's office." Emily nodded, but didn't trust herself to speak. "Mayer, Henderson and, as I'm sure you know Paul, are all on the hook for this." He paused. "I'm sorry this has been such a horrible time for you."

_To put it mildly…_Emily thought to herself. "What's going to happen to Paul?" she heard herself ask.

"That's up to the DA," Ross replied, "but attempted murder, conspiracy to murder and aiding and abetting the supply of illegal narcotics…?" he left the remainder of the sentiment unsaid. "Have you seen Detective Goren?"

Emily looked up at him and felt her cheeks flame, "I'm going over there now."

"Well, give him my best wishes for a speedy recovery."

"I will," Emily replied. She stood up and shook the other man's hand before making her way as quickly as possible out of the Major Case squad room and pressing the button for the lift.

As she waited, she allowed her mind to wander back over the events immediately following Paul firing his gun. Maybe they would never know who he was aiming for, but Bobby had thrown himself in front of Emily and taken the full force of the bullet. She saw in her mind's eye, him crumpling to the ground at her feet, his blood spreading across the floor, the sight of Paul on his knees, having just taken a bullet to the shoulder, and Alex cuffing him from behind…

Then there had been the seemingly endless ambulance ride to Baltimore General. Emily had held Bobby's hand the entire way there, crying uncontrollably while he told her that he was ok, despite growing whiter with every passing second. She hadn't just been crying for him, but for everything that happened. The shock of finding Paul alive had hit her so suddenly that she just couldn't help herself. By the time they reached the hospital, the paramedics had recommended that she be given a sedative. Four hours later she had woken to find Michelle and Ben by her bedside. After checking that Bobby was out of surgery and doing ok, she had left the hospital with them. Three days later Bobby had been transferred to Northwestern in Queens and Emily hadn't seen him since. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to, but she wasn't sure she could face him, not after everything that had happened.

The lift doors suddenly pinged open and she came face to face with Alex. The other woman paused before stepping out of the lift and joining her in the hallway. Emily wanted nothing more than to simply get into the lift and get out, but something made her wait and allow it to leave without her.

"How are you?" Alex asked after a long moment of silence.

"Fine," she replied. "I was just giving Captain Ross my statement."

"I see."

"There's not going to be any further action taken against me regarding Jenny Patrick so…"

"That's good."

Emily fidgeted nervously, "I'm going to the hospital to see Bobby."

If Alex wanted to make any comment, she didn't. "You'd better hurry," was all she said, "He's being discharged this afternoon."

"Oh, well that's good."

"Yeah it is."

They looked at each other for a long moment without speaking until the lift appeared again.

"Well," Emily said, "I'd better…"

"Yeah. Bye Emily."

"Bye Alex." Emily stepped into the lift and had never been more grateful in her life than when the doors closed, blocking Alex's accusatory stare.

The journey to Queens took her almost an hour in the traffic and when she pulled into the parking lot, Emily sat for another ten minutes before working up the courage to actually go inside. She had thought about this meeting for so long, replayed everything she would say over and over in her mind. She knew she was doing the right thing and yet part of her felt it was so wrong.

When she reached Bobby's room, she took a deep breath, put a smile on her face and opened the door. The television was on, an old episode of Jerry Springer, but Bobby was nowhere to be seen. Emily paused, surprised by the empty bed. "Hello?" There was no reply, so she stepped further into the room. Finding the remote control on the bedside table, she turned the volume down. "Bobby?"

The bathroom door opened and he appeared in front of her dressed in jeans and a baggy sweater. "Hey. Sorry, I was just…"

"You don't have to explain," she interrupted him, holding up her hand.

He laughed, "I was going to say that I was packing my stuff up. Doctor says I can go home later today."

"I know, Alex told me. I was at Major Case earlier giving my statement." He nodded in understanding and she watched as he walked slowly back over to the bed. "But…do you think you're ready to go home? I mean, are you still in pain?"

"I got shot, Em. It's going to hurt for a bit." He sat slowly down on the side of the bed and put his hand against his chest where the bullet had wounded him.

Pain shot through her at the memory. "No, I know. I mean…" she laughed nervously, trying to dislodge it. "That was a dumb thing to say…sorry." Bobby reached out and hooked a finger through one of her belt loops, pulling her over towards him. "I guess I was just wondering if you were going to manage."

"I'm a big boy," he replied, putting both hands on her hips and drawing her in so that she was standing between his legs. His eyes were level with her chest and he rested his head against her, drinking in her scent.

"Bobby…" she felt her insides turn over with the memory of his head at her breast…then she pulled back from him and sat down in the bedside chair. "I'm glad that you're getting home. It can't have been much fun for you in here the last week."

"The thought of you kept me going." He searched her face. "I've missed you."

Emily ducked her head, fully aware that such an innocent sounding comment had an undertone. Namely that she had not visited every single one of the days he had been in hospital. "I had to sort things out with the lawyers…you know with Paul…"

_"You have to sort out what you're going to say," _her lawyer had told her in the immediate aftermath. _"Whether or not you stand by Paul is up to you."_ In the end, she had made a full statement detailing everything Paul had told her, the statement she had given that morning.

"Emily." He waited until she met his gaze again, "It wasn't a criticism." She nodded, although she didn't believe him. "How's Amy?"

"She's fine. She sends you her love and wants to know how long it'll take for you to get better."

He reached over and pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and his touch against her skin made her tingle. "You look…incredible," he said. "You know, I was thinking that when I get out of here, I should take you on a proper date."

"A…a date?"

He nodded enthusiastically, "I've got it all figured out. There's this little Italian place just off Broadway. They do the best food and then I thought we could…"

"But why?"

He stopped, "Why what?"

"Why would you want to go on a date with me? Why would you even want to waste your time on me? After everything that happened…"

"None of it was your fault."

"No?"

"Of course it wasn't." Emily got to her feet and made her way over to the window. "It was Paul. He planned all this and he played you. You couldn't have known that…"

"I was his wife!" She turned to face him, the tears she had been holding back spilling down her cheeks. "I lived with him, slept beside him…how could I not have seen what he was really like?" It was the perennial question she had been asking herself, over and over, for the last ten days.

"Well…we don't always see the truth when we're in love."

Emily stared at him, "What about you, Bobby? Are you in love with me?"

He answered without thinking. "Yes."

"You don't even know me. You risked everything…you risked your life…for a woman you don't even know."

"Emily, I know you…"

"No, you don't," she replied. "Not really. You know my body…but you don't know me. You don't know what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling…You've built me up in your head as being this…perfect woman…the mother of your child and yet you really know nothing about me. Hell, I'm not even sure if I know myself." She wiped her eyes viciously. "My husband is facing life without parole, my daughter…I have to tell Amy that her father's not really dead but that he's a criminal I…" she shook her head. "Anything more is too much to take right now."

"What are you trying to say?"

Emily let out a long breath and steeled herself to deliver the crushing blow. "I'm saying that I have to get away from here. From the memories…from New York. From everything that reminds me of the sham of a life I've been living. I'm taking Amy back to Phoenix and we're going to stay with my parents."

"Well…how long for?"

"I don't know," she ducked her head again, "Until the trial…maybe…I might be able to get my old job back on the Phoenix PD…I'm still friendly with my old captain…" she left the rest of the sentiment trailing in the air.

"But you can't…you can't take her away…"

"Bobby…"

"She's my daughter, Emily, you can't take her away from me, especially now!" He got to his feet and faced her, swaying slightly with the action of standing up so quickly.

The realisation hit Emily. "It's still about her, isn't it?" she said softly, "You tell me you're in love with me, Bobby, but it's still all about being with Amy. After everything, I'm still just an afterthought."

"That's not true," he tried to reassure her, "I love you and I want to be with you _and _Amy. How can you say that I don't?"

Blaming him somehow made it easier for her to walk away. "You want a daughter to be able to show to your mother. To show to the world. It wouldn't matter to you _who_ her mother was as long as you had Amy." Bobby stared at her uncomprehendingly. "I told you before that I wouldn't tell her who you really are and that still stands. I'm not saying you can't see her if you want…"

"I took a bullet for you." His words brought her up and she paused, staring at the ground for a long moment. "Do you think I would have done that if I didn't love you?"

"So…what? We get together out of some misplaced sense of gratitude on my part? Thanks for stepping in front of me as my husband tried to kill me?" She saw him flinch and regretted her words, "I don't mean…I didn't mean that I'm not grateful, that I don't appreciate…" he turned away from her and she stopped. "Bobby, please try to understand."

"I understand," he said, his back to her, "I understand that nothing's changed. That everything is still the same as it was five years ago. You let me make love to you that night, and again a few days ago, and made me believe both times that it was what you wanted."

"It was," she said quickly, her mind straying back, her breath catching in her throat at the memory.

"No it wasn't. Not really. Sure, you were attracted to me and you wanted to have a bit of fun but you knew why I wanted it and you don't want the same thing. You want the occasional roll in the hay, well I can't do that, Emily, ok? It's…it's all or nothing with me, you should know that." He turned back to face her. "I want to be with you and I want to be with Amy. As a family."

"Well, I can't do that," she replied.

"Why not? Your husband isn't dead anymore. He's alive, and he's going to jail. You have nobody's memory to betray."

"Just because Paul isn't actually dead doesn't mean that my feelings towards him have changed!" She shot back. "Just because he tried to kill me, and almost killed you, doesn't mean that I can just…switch off the way I feel!" It sounded absurd, even to her own ears, but it was the truth.

"Well it should!" he retorted.

"Maybe it should but it doesn't!" She sat down in the chair again. "I need to go home. I need to spend time with Amy and figure out what the hell I'm going to tell her about all this. I need to sort out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. Can't you see that you and I is just an added complication to that?"

Bobby didn't reply for a long moment. "I guess I figured 'you and I' might help you make that decision. I guess I figured that you'd want to be with me, but you clearly don't. I guess I figured you loved me, but…"

Emily put her head in her hands, "I don't know what I want." Pointedly, she refrained from answering his last point.

"Well…I guess you'd best go to Phoenix and figure it out. Make sure you leave me a number so I can maybe call Amy once in a while, you know, so she doesn't think I've abandoned her too."

His sarcasm hit her hard. "Bobby…"

"Yeah, you can go now Emily. I don't want to keep you here any longer than necessary." He turned away from her.

She got to her feet and let out a long breath. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you." He didn't reply, so she turned and left the room. By the time she reached the elevator, she was crying again.


	22. The Return

**Phoenix, Arizona**

**October 30****th**** 2005**

Emily rolled over and looked at the clock on her nightstand for the fifth time in ten minutes. The unblinking green digits told her it was only four minutes later than it had been when she had last checked. Sighing with frustration, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She hadn't slept properly for the last couple of nights and her body was crying out with exhaustion. She wished she could just close her eyes and drift off, but it was an impossible dream. Even one of her mother's sleeping pills hadn't done the trick.

Sighing, she sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp, bathing her old childhood room with an eerie glow. It had been redecorated since she had left Phoenix in 1994 and made her way to New York, but it still filled her with a sense of familiar security. It was the scene of so many childhood memories. If she closed her eyes, she was fifteen again and playing make-up artists with her friends.

But her mind wouldn't let her wallow in those happy memories. Instead, she turned to look at the bedside table and found herself pulling open one of the drawers and lifting out the letters. Her mail was being redirected to Phoenix and when they had arrived, a few weeks apart at a time, her mother had simply handed them to her wordlessly. The handwriting was familiar, she would know it anywhere. Even if she didn't, the ugly stamp from the Department of Corrections gave away the identity of the author.

She pulled out the most recent one and read his words again.

_Dear Emily_

_You haven't replied to my last letter, or indeed any of my letters, but I'm not giving up. I know you think I tried to kill you but I didn't and I'm sorry that he got shot. I know I've hurt you, but I want you to know that I love you and I love Amy. Please come and see me. I don't want the next time I see you to be in the courtroom._

_Love Paul_

She wanted to screw it up and throw it away, but something inside her made her stop and merely slip it back into its envelope before shutting it away in the drawer. Leaning her head back against the headboard she thought about the one other thing that had been occupying her mind for the last few weeks. Or the one other person. When she closed her eyes, she saw his face, heard his voice and the pain she knew she had caused him the last time she had seen him haunted her. Daily she asked herself if she had made the right decision. Being back in Phoenix hadn't exactly been the answer to all her prayers. She wasn't exactly happy…

Climbing out of bed she left the room, pausing briefly at the door of Amy's room before continuing on to the kitchen. To her surprise, she found her dad leaning against the table reading the previous day's paper.

"Dad? What are you doing up?"

"Hey Mushroom," he greeted her with her childhood nickname, "Couldn't sleep and didn't want to disturb your mother with my tossing and turning." He put the paper down and looked at her, "What about you?"

"Couldn't sleep either," she confessed, "thought some tea might help."

"Well, you're just in time," he said as the kettle whistled. Emily sat down at the table while he poured the steaming water into the teapot. "What's keeping you up?"

"Oh you know," she replied vaguely, "this and that."

"Are you packed?"

"I'm only going for a couple of days and I still have a lot of stuff at the house…" she trailed off, "You sure it's still ok for me to leave Amy with you?"

"Of course," he replied, pouring her a steaming mug and handing it to her. He sat down opposite her, "Don't you think it might be good idea to take her with you though?"

"I'm going to be sat in a witness room all day and then giving evidence. Where would I leave her?"

"Michelle and Ben could watch her."

"They both work, Dad and besides…she seems to be really settling in here." She played with the handle of her mug.

"Well, maybe there might be someone else who would want to spend time with her in the city," her father said, avoiding her gaze.

"Such as?"

"What about that guy that's called here a few times? He and Amy seem to get along well."

"You mean Bobby? He's…he's just a friend. Why would I leave Amy with him?" Emily looked away, "Besides, he has to testify too. Paul did shoot him after all…" She trailed off and took a drink of tea so she couldn't say any more.

"You know something, Mushroom? You've always been a lousy liar, even when you were a kid. You would try to lie your way out of something but I always knew the truth. It's probably what made you a good cop."

"I don't know about that."

"This Bobby…he's more than a friend, isn't he?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Ok, hands up," he put his mug down on the table in front of him, "I know the truth. Your mother and I both do."

Emily stared at him, "What truth?"

"About Amy?" he pressed, giving her the opportunity to get in first. "About Amy not being Paul's biological daughter?"

Emily's mug hit the table with a bang, "You know? How do you…?"

"Michelle told us."

"Michelle? How dare she..!"

"She thought she was doing the right thing," he interrupted her. "She was worried about you. We all were. So…we know." He looked at her. "Bobby's her real father, isn't he?" Emily nodded silently. "Well then I suppose there is a God."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you don't have any blood connection with Paul. There's no reason that he has to be any part of your life ever again once you get divorced. And Amy can grow up with a normal, stable family."

Emily traced a line on the table with her finger, "Do you think I've thought about anything else since I came here?"

"I think that you haven't firmed up with your old Captain about getting a job back here. Doesn't that tell you something?"

She met his gaze, "What?"

"That you're not convinced you want to stay here."

"Don't you like having me here?"

"Of course we do," he took her hand across the table. "Your mother and I are ecstatic that you and Amy are both here. But we only want you here if you want to be here and, quite frankly, I don't think you do. Amy'll be starting school next Fall and you need to be settled somewhere."

Emily didn't say anything for a long moment, but allowed her father to continue holding her hand. "Dad…" she said finally, "I cheated on my husband five years ago and…and Amy was the result." She paused, "And, a few months ago when I thought he was dead, I did it again. Doesn't that make me a bad person?"

"No," her father said, getting to his feet, "It makes you human. I'm not saying that I condone infidelity Emily but…" he sighed, "at the end of the day, I only want you to be happy." He squeezed her hand. "Don't stay up too long or you'll miss your flight tomorrow." With that, he left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

**New York**

**October 31****st**** 2005**

"What are you doing here?" Alex asked as she walked over to her desk. "I thought you were in court today?"

Bobby looked up from the paperwork he was filling in, "I don't need to be there until ten-thirty," he replied, "I figured I could use the time beforehand to clear some of this stuff. In case I'm away for a while." He looked back down at what he was doing, not wanting to tell her that he had actually been in the office since five am.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, perceptive as always.

He looked up and saw that her expression was neutral. "Something like that. Don't know why. It's not as though I haven't given evidence before so I shouldn't be nervous."

"Well you've never given evidence against someone who shot you before."

"True."

"Or maybe it's more to do with who else is going to be giving evidence." He looked over and saw her watching him. "Have you heard from her?"

"I spoke to Amy a couple of weeks ago. She seemed to be ok and enjoying spending time with her grandparents…"

"It wasn't Amy I was…"

"I know."

"Bobby…"

"Eames, please just leave it," he cut her off before she could go any further. "I don't…I don't want to talk about it."

"Ok," she sat down at her desk.

"She made her choice."

"Yep."

"She wants to be in Phoenix and…that's the end of it."

"Sure it is."

He met her gaze again and could tell she knew as well as he did that it was far from being the end.

An hour later he arrived at the courthouse and couldn't help but surreptitiously scan the people going in and out for any sign of Emily. There was no sign of her as he approached the main desk.

"Detective Robert Goren," he gave his name. "I'm…a witness in People v Roscoe."

The girl checked her list. "Oh yes, Detective Goren. ADA Carver specifically asked if you and one other witness could make your ways to witness room 2. It's down the hallway to the end and then the second door on the left."

"Thanks." He walked down the hallway until he reached the door of witness room 2 stealing himself to come face to face with whoever the other witness was. When he opened the door, however, he saw that the room was empty save for Emily sat at the far end. When she saw him, she got to her feet but made no move towards him.

"Hi," she said after a long moment of silence.

"Hi," he replied, closing the door behind him and stepping further into the room.

"It's after ten-thirty," she said, glancing at her watch. "Do you know why they've put us in here by ourselves?"

"No," he replied.

"You…uh…you look well," she said, changing the subject quickly, "better than the last time I saw you."

"Yeah it's…it's healed pretty good." He fought for something else to say. "And you…you look good too."

"Thank you," she replied softly.

"You've…you've got a bit of a tan." She smiled. "Have you gotten a job back in Phoenix?"

"No," she replied. "I…I haven't made up my mind whether or not I want to stay there. I mean, being back with my parents is great but…I remember why I left in the first place." She let out a short laugh. "And the heat is pretty hard to get used to again."

"Are you thinking about coming back to New York?" He didn't want to sound too hopeful.

"It's…definitely something I'm thinking seriously about." She met his gaze and held it. The whole plane ride from Phoenix she had thought of nothing else than what she was going to do when she got here, when she saw him again. And now…she wasn't sure how to articulate what she wanted to say. "Bobby, I…"

The door suddenly opened and Ron Carver appeared. "I'm sorry for the intrigue," he said, closing the door behind him. "There's been a development."

"What kind of development?" Emily asked.

"Your husband has negotiated a plea."

Emily looked at him, "A plea? Now?" Carver nodded. "What's the deal?"

"He pleads to the attempted murder of Detective Goren," Carver gestured to Bobby, "and to conspiracy to murder for Gabrielle Lewis. He rolls on Carlos Sanchez in return for a walk on the trafficking charges."

"And the sentence?"

"We agreed on twenty to life."

"What about the others?" Bobby asked when Emily didn't reply.

"Diane Mayer is pleading not guilty to the murder of Owen Slater by reason of mental disease. She'll most likely be sent back to Kelling. As for Lisa Henderson we've agreed eight to fifteen for conspiracy to murder for Gabrielle and three years probation for Charlie Mayer."

"Probation?" Emily echoed.

"In light of her minimal involvement and the fact that she has a child."

"My husband's child."

"Speaking of your husband," Carver said, "he asked if you would give him five minutes."

"He's here?" she said.

"In the courtroom. You don't have to see him if you don't want to."

"No..." she said slowly after a long silence, "I want to see him."

There's an armed officer at the door," he added. "just in case."

Emily shook her head, "I'm not the one who might need protecting." She looked at Bobby, wondering how to convey to him that she didn't want him to leave.

As if reading her mind, he sat back down in one of the chairs. "I'll wait here."

She smiled at him, "Thanks."

"This way," Carver opened the door and gestured down the hallway to the closed courtroom door. "Take as long as you need."

Emily nodded and walked slowly towards the door.

**Next up, Emily confronts the two men in her life....but who will win???**


	23. Past and Future

**Thanks to those continuing to read and review. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

He was sitting at the defence table when she walked in, wearing a suit, looking smart and neat. It would have reminded her of him sitting at their kitchen table in Brooklyn had it not been for the handcuffs encircling his wrists. He watched as she approached and his gaze made her feel uncomfortable, as though he were mentally undressing her in his minds eye. She stopped a few feet away from the table.

"Hi Emily," he greeted her softly, "Thank you for…"

"Is this where I get to find out why?" she interrupted him, unable to bear listening to him make small talk. "Because, this set up is a bit more conducive for me to get answers than the last time we met. There's no gun being pointed at me, for example."

"How's Amy?" he asked, ignoring her.

She shook her head, determined to keep the conversation away from her daughter. Equating her precious child with the monster in front of her was something else that seemed too difficult to comprehend. "What do you want?"

He ducked his head, in that old familiar way he used to whenever he wanted to apologise. "I wanted to say I was sorry. For everything. For lying to you, for betraying you, for hurting you by pretending I was dead…"

"For shooting Bobby?"

He looked at her and for some reason she could tell that he knew about her indiscretion after his supposed death, "Yeah, and for shooting Bobby. I know that must have hurt you a lot." She flinched slightly. "I hear he's ok though."

"Who told you that?"

He shrugged, "Someone." He looked her up and down again, "You look great."

"Who were you aiming for?" she asked, feeling her stomach turn with disgust. "Me or Bobby?"

Paul didn't reply to her question. "You know what my deal is?"

"Twenty to life. Carver told me."

"I wanted to spare you having to give evidence against me."

"That was good of you," she replied sarcastically.

"You didn't reply to any of my letters."

"I didn't even bother to read them," she lied. "I threw them all away unopened."

"I don't believe you," he said, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Believe what you like, it's the truth."

"I could be out by the time I'm sixty," he changed tact again.

"If I have anything to do with it you'll never get out," she replied immediately. "You deserve to rot for everything you've done. To me, to Amy…"

"You never told me how she is."

"No," Emily shook her head, "I didn't."

"I'm going to be in prison for a long time," Paul said. "Sing Sing most likely. I want you to promise to bring Amy to see me."

Emily stared at him uncomprehendingly, unable to believe what he had just said. "What?"

"Regularly," he continued undaunted, "It's not far and I don't want to lose touch with her, Emily. She's my daughter…"

"No she isn't." Emily replied quickly.

"I'm named on her birth certificate…"

"I can change that."

"I raised her for four years…"

"But you are _not _her father!"

"Yes I am!" Paul glared at her. "Maybe not by blood but in every other way _I am her father. _Not that nut-job that you opened your legs for!I may be losing my freedom here but I am _not _going to lose my child too. Now I want you to promise me that you'll bring her to see me!"

The armed officer by the door stepped forward, one hand on top of his piece.

Emily held up her hand and shook her head briefly before turning back to Paul, "You must be crazy if you think I would bring my daughter anywhere near you ever again. Haven't you hurt her enough? Go to hell." She turned to walk away.

"You wanted to know why!" he shouted after her, causing her to pause and turn back, "I'm not sure there would be enough time to explain it all…"

"Try." She had to know the reason, needed to know, if she ever hoped to move on.

Paul bit his lip, "We had so much debt, from when Emily was born, and…I wasn't sure how to…"

"It wasn't that bad."

"It was," he looked at her, "I hid most of the bills from you, Em, and you never asked. We were going to lose the house. We still might." Emily froze. "I re-mortgaged the house and…I didn't tell you. Even then the bank was threatening to foreclose so…I saw an opportunity with Sanchez to make some quick, easy money and I…I took it."

"Oh God…"

"But…I was in too deep. Sanchez was demanding more and more and I knew I had to get away."

"And you were sleeping with Charlie," she interjected. "Let's not forget that!"

"You were sleeping with Bobby!" he shot back pettily.

"Not before I thought you had been killed!" she shouted, confirming what she knew he already knew. "I never cheated on you Paul, not since that night when…"

"When you and he conceived Amy."

Emily looked away. "You must have cheated on me long before then. Hold old is Josh? Four? Five?"

Paul sighed, but didn't answer the question. "I didn't mean for anything to happen between me and Charlie again, but she was involved in the Sanchez thing too and I could talk to her about it and it just…" he shook his head, "It just got too much. We thought we could run from Sanchez. I knew it was me he would come after, not you. I wanted to protect you because I loved you. And then Gabrielle told me about Amy and…" he trailed off, knowing that she already knew the rest.

Emily looked at him, unable to believe that he was the same man she had vowed to spend her life with. The same man that she had given up everything that Bobby could have offered her on more than one occasion. "I never really knew you at all, did I?" He simply looked at her. "Goodbye Paul." She turned again and made for the door.

"What about Amy?" He shouted after her, "What about Amy?!" She kept walking. "I still have friends!" His words made her stop and turn back. "I still have friends, Emily."

She took a moment to digest what he was saying. "Are you…are you threatening me?" The armed officer took another step forward.

Paul shook his head. "I would never hurt you. I just want to see Amy." The desperation on his face was obvious.

"What about Josh?" She asked. "Your son? Are you demanding the same from Charlie too? I hear she escaped jail."

"I don't care about him," Paul replied dismissively, "I only care about Amy."

Emily shook her head again. "You disgust me." She pushed open the door.

"Don't you walk away from me!" He shouted after her. "Emily, come back here!" But she kept walking, out of the courtroom and back into the corridor where she felt she could breathe again. Pausing, she leaned against the wall and let out a shaky breath. She ran a hand through her hair and realised she was trembling. From the courtroom she could still hear Paul shouting as he was, presumably, being led away to begin his sentence.

"Emily? Are you ok?" She looked up to see Bobby standing at the door of the witness room, his expression one of concern.

"I don't know…" she replied shakily, "I don't…I think…I think he just threatened to kill me, I…I don't…." she trailed off and felt the world around her spin. "I'm going to faint…"

"Woah, hang on!" She felt his arms go around her, preventing her from sliding down the wall. He held her to him and she buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent, forcing herself to keep a grip on reality. "He can't hurt you from jail," he told her.

"He said he had friends," she repeated Paul's words once she had regained the power of speech. "He was helping Sanchez. He could know anybody…" she pulled back and looked up at him. "He just kept going on and on about wanting me to take Amy to see him…"

"It's just talk," he reassured her, "he's ranting because he knows that he can't have what he wants. I promise you that no-one is going to hurt you, or Amy." He pushed her hair out of her eyes. "You're sweating and you're shaking. You should sit down." He propelled her back into the witness room and helped her into one of the seats. Then he got a cup of water from the machine and passed it to her.

"It was like…" she stuttered, "It was like talking to a stranger. Everything I thought about my marriage, about my life…" she took a drink of water. "My husband's going to jail, my house is about to be repossessed…"

"What?"

"Paul re-mortgaged the house and didn't tell me…the bank is probably going to take it…" she put her head in her hands. "Six months ago I was a normal wife and a normal mother with a normal life. I don't understand where it all went so wrong."

Bobby crouched in front of her and forced her hands away from her face, "It's going to be ok," he told her.

"How?" she asked him. "How is it going to be ok?"

Before he could answer, the door opened and Carver appeared again. "Your husband wasn't too happy after your little chat," he said, "Are you all right?" She nodded. "Well, he's heading upstate, literally, so he'll be out of your life for a long time."

"Upstate?" she said, "He said he thought he was going to Sing Sing."

"No, Upstate Correctional Facility. Franklin County." Carver replied, "Not only did we agree that it was probably for the best that he be as far away from you and your daughter as possible when you come back to New York, but he can be kept in long term solitary confinement there."

"Solitary confinement?" she repeated.

Carver nodded. "He's turned on some very dangerous people. At the end of the day, it's for his own protection." He squeezed her shoulder, "I hope you have a safe trip back to Phoenix." With that, he left them alone again.

Emily wiped her eyes, "Visitors are extremely restricted when you're in solitary."

Bobby nodded, "Yup."

"It wouldn't be appropriate."

"No, it wouldn't."

She shivered suddenly, "I really need to get out of here. Could we…I mean…would you mind…?"

He got to his feet and held out his hand, "Come on."

XXXX

"Hey Mom," Emily leaned her back against the wall, "No, it's over. No, I didn't have to, he took a plea. Twenty to life." She rubbed her eyes, "Yeah I spoke to him. What could I say? He wanted me to promise to take Amy to visit him in prison. No, I know. That's what I said." She glanced back at the table where Bobby was waiting for her. "No, I think I'll go to the house and pick up a few things before the flight. I know. Give Amy a kiss for me. Bye." Closing her cell phone, she made her way back over to him.

"Everything ok?" he asked her as the waitress put down their coffees.

"Fine," she replied. "I just wanted to let them know what had happened."

"What time is your flight back?"

Emily put her cup down. "I figured my evidence would take the best part of two days so I'm not booked to fly back until tomorrow night. I could transfer, but what's the point? I'll go out to the house and pick up a few things," she repeated what she had told her mother. "I guess I should also call the mortgage company and find out if I'm about to lose the place." She smiled at him. "I wanted to say thank you. For waiting for me at the courthouse."

He shrugged, "I figured you might need a friend."

"Don't you have to get back to 1PP?"

"I figured my evidence would take a while too."

She smiled, "I don't know why you would bother, especially considering how unfair I was to you the last time we met." Bobby didn't reply. "In the hospital…I said some things that…" she sighed, "that weren't true and…and I'm sorry."

"It's ok," he replied easily.

"No it isn't," she said. "I told you that you only wanted to be with me to get close to Amy when I knew that wasn't really true and I used that to make it easier for me to walk away from you." She looked down into her cup. "The truth is…I was too afraid to face how I really felt. How I really feel."

"Which is?"

"I love you." The words were out before she knew how to stop them. Or maybe she hadn't wanted to stop them. "I think in a strange way…I always have…from the first moment we met all those years ago." She looked at him. "I could have had an abortion when I found out I was pregnant. Paul would never have known but…I couldn't and it wasn't because of any religious beliefs or…it was because she was yours. I know that now."

Bobby reached across the table and took her hand, "I'm glad you didn't." She squeezed his in response. "What about Paul?"

"What about him? He's going to be spending the next twenty years of his life in Greenhaven. I'm going to speak to my lawyer as soon as possible and try and get the divorce going. The sooner I have no ties to him the better." She paused. "I've spent the last few months torn between loving him and hating him. I thought I still loved him, but after seeing him today…after seeing what he really is…I know that I hate him as strongly and as passionately as I love you." She met his gaze again. "So, if you still want to take me on that date…"

**Brooklyn**

"I appreciate that, but I'm sure that you can appreciate…I _know _you're only doing your job…Mr Harper…Mr Harper, my husband is beginning a life sentence today, now surely that comes under the heading of _exceptional circumstances_?"

Bobby slipped his arms around Emily's waist and pulled her back against him. She had been on the phone to the mortgage company for the last twenty minutes trying to explain the situation and to get more time on the repayments. Gently, he slid his hands up across her stomach and started unbuttoning her blouse.

"Yes, yes I understand…"

The garment fell, exposing her back, and he started kissing between her shoulder blades and up to the back of her neck. In doing so, he also unhooked her bra and gently slid the straps down off her shoulders.

"But my husband agreed the re-mortgage deal without ever consulting me." Emily squirmed back against him as he brushed his fingers over her nipples. "Mmm hmm…no, he didn't."

Her skirt was next. Sliding the zip down, he eased it down over her hips onto the floor, where she kicked it away, and then proceeded to do the same with the sheer pantyhose she had on. Passing the phone from her right to her left hand, Emily assisted him, and when she reached back to steady herself and felt the bareness of his own skin, she turned and raised her eyebrows at the sight that he was already undressed.

"Well, is there some sort of repayment plan that we could work out?" She said, turning away from him again. "I'm on my own with a four year old and I need to keep my house…" Bobby slipped his hand slowly down the front of her underwear and gently began probing with his fingers. "Uh huh…" Emily said, her breathing starting to grow ragged. "No, I…I see…well if you could send me the paperwork I'd be grateful." He continued to gently rub between her legs with one hand while the other caressed her breast. "How…how long does that take?" Emily held the phone away from her mouth, allowing herself to gasp. "Mmm hmm…all right. If you send it…I can fill it in and…and have it back to you straight away. Yes and I'll make an appointment once I receive it."

She reached out and held onto the wall with her left hand. "No, that would be fine…" He could tell her knees were about to buckle. "What? No, no, I'm fine." He smiled against her hair, realising Mr Harper must have asked her if she was all right. "Yes, all right…yes, thanks for your help." Her knees were buckling now and he had to hold her up. "Thank you. Goodbye." Tossing the phone onto the floor, she swung around to face him and he lifted her up and pressed her against the wall, driving himself into her as he did so.

"Jesus…" she gasped a few moments later after they had both come, "Can't even make a simple phone call when you're around."

Bobby carried her in his arms over to the bed and laid her down. "What did he say?" He asked, joining her.

"I've no idea," she replied as he wrapped his arms around her, "I was a bit distracted."

They lay without speaking, the only sound being that of their own heavy breathing.

"I love you," Bobby said finally.

Emily turned to face him and kissed him, finally able to give him the answer she knew he wanted. "I love you too."

**Epilogue coming soon!**


End file.
